


Shades of Grey: Past Zero Time

by CavalierConvoy



Series: Primax 984α-ﬡג, Iteration 1: Brash [3]
Category: The Transformers (Cartoon Generation One), Transformers (Dreamwave Generation One), Transformers (Marvel Generation One), Transformers (Marvel Generation Two)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon - Comics & Cartoon Combination, Canon-Typical Behavior, Canon-Typical Violence, Car Chases, Gen, Minor Character Death, Mnemosurgery (Transformers), NASCAR references galore, Possession, Quantum Mechanics, Space Battles, Technobabble, background planetary destruction, so many dated pop culture references, something's in the ventilation system
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:13:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 61,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26160202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CavalierConvoy/pseuds/CavalierConvoy
Summary: (original illustrations circa 2001 when I attempted to make a comic of this.)
Relationships: Skyfire & Starscream (Transformers), Starscream & Original Cybertronian Character(s)
Series: Primax 984α-ﬡג, Iteration 1: Brash [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1882957
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	1. The Final Countdown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A planet destroyed by a long-forgotten Cybertronian faction brings the galaxy's powers to arms, but on Earth, the focus is on Galvatron's big push to rid himself of the Autobots once and for all!
> 
> Except that little does Galvatron realise, he's only a pawn in a much larger game.
> 
> _Originally posted in 2001; Illustrations are by the author from the same era_

***

Prologue

By galactic standards, Seti VIII was pretty much a tax write off.

On the fringe of Sirian space, this tiny planet, nicknamed Nouveau Alaska by its human settlers, was cold, only reaching temperatures of 5 degrees Centigrade during its summer months, and dropping to -20 degrees in the winter. Tolerable for many carbon-based lifeforms but not so much that it would have been considered prime settling land, it would have been completely looked over if it wasn't for one thing:

It was petrol-rich and renewed this resource quickly.

One hundred thousand Sirians and Terrans as well as a few colony Cybertronians called this planet home.

There was little fear of attack; the Rokkans would not attack Sirian colonies, and for the remaining Decepticons of Cybertron, now for the most part residing on Charr, it was too far away to be considered a strategic advantage, even with Galvatron's insanity.

With the exception of transport ships that came in three or four times a stellar cycle, there was little contact between Seti VIII and Sirius II.

No one knew why the strange, alien spacecraft appeared one day, an asymmetrical monstrosity, arrived in Seti's solar system, but its intentions were made perfectly clear. There had been no demands, no warnings, no threats.

There were few survivors in the massacre that followed; Jyr Wandering Star, the captain of the Sirian transport _Von's Blade_ , barely got her and the crew of the ship into orbit when the monstrous ship attacked the planet's surface, launching a barrage of precision missiles down onto Nouveau Alaska's one city, Petite-Juneau.

Mioshi Hirosama, _Von's Blade_ 's only human, computer expert, and empath, had screamed out in one hundred thousand dying voices, falling unconscious as the crew stared in horror at the attack that unfolded before them.

"Savant, enable backup control!" Jyr barked, her stocky frame trembling with her deep voice, "get us the hell out of here, maximum speed!" Turning to the Tauran female on her right, a large bovine biped with black and white spotting slouched over a communications console, she then ordered, "Tana, send out transmissions of this to the Intragalactic Alliance, Sirius Prime, and Cybertron!"

"Aye, Captain!" Tana bleated.

Jyr looked down at the human, unconscious in his chair. She stroked his spiky dyed blonde hair, worried, staring up at the viewscreen once more.

"Who the hell are they...?" she questioned, more to herself than anything.

And then she saw the symbol on the side of the attacking ship, an evil purple stylized face leering angrily at them. Although she had never seen this particular styling before, she recognized the basic pattern.

"Decepticons?" she whispered, surprised. 

***

Chapter One

Outside Autobot City

Oregon, United States

Sol III (Earth)

The rocky terrain mirrored her mood, the gloss black Autobot brooded, staring off to a point in the horizon, towards Mount St. Hillary. Desolate, unyielding for growth. _Pleasant. Just like her._

Cupping her face in her hands, she brought her knees to her chest and propped her elbows, ice blue optics contemplating existence. The sun glinted painfully against her high definition chrome, casting dancing reflective rainbows into her shadow.

In her long life, she had been many guises, done many things, seen many lives played out before her. But she was tired of playing.

As her human friend Minerva once said to her, sometimes you just have to take fate by the short and curlies, whatever the hell that meant.

Turn her back on her past. Start anew. Work hard, like she's never done that before.

She felt an unnatural breeze, cold, painful, brush against her cheek. Tensing up, she found her spark actually resisting that normally familiar pull. Having being burned one too many times, she had finally begun to realize that she did indeed have the power to resist him.

However, she said nothing to the phantom gesture, only ignored it.

"Artemis," the familiar, mocking voice that had, at one point long ago, belonged to a scientist she had once loved, breathed next to her helm. "You're losing yourself again...are the nightmares becoming too much for you?"

"What do you want?" she demanded, lacking any emotion. Be cold, she ordered herself. Don't let him get under your exostructure.

"You came out here to think," Starscream's ghost whispered, almost sincerely. The sensation of one sitting next to her was present, even though the spectre had willed himself totally invisible. "About what? About the upcoming battle? Galvatron is on Earth, as your fellow Autobots-" to this, he scoffed, "-go to intercept him. And they will succeed. But because of us, there is dissension in Galvatron's army. Those who haven't been banished yet still hold the seed of doubt about Galvatron, causing them to abandon him in his time of need. This battle will be the one to end it, I think, Artemis. This is the final conflict between Decepticon and Autobot." She could picture his expression in her mind's optic, his anger seeping through his calm exterior, his ruby optics narrowing, his smirk turning into a malicious sneer. "And the Autobots will win."

"Yes," she whispered, again, without emotion. "We will win."

"Dammit, Arty!" She had expected him to take her by the shoulders and shake her, had he still possessed his shell. "You're not an Autobot! Must I remind you that constantly? Once Galvatron is defeated, I will reclaim my rightful place as Decepticon leader! I will bring the Decepticons back to their former glory!" His fit of hysterics toned down considerably, his voice dropping as the icy breeze caressed her cheek again. "But in order for me to conduct this orchestration, I need my valued instrument..."

_"Yo, Arty! Blaster blastin' atcha!"_

Ignoring Starscream, she activated her communications link.

"What's up, Blaster?"

_"Got some weird vibes sent down by both Iacon Defense and EDC. Figured you know your way around the galaxy, maybe you could help put two and two together. Think you could come in and be a little social with me and the boys?"_

"I'm heading in, Blaster. Artemis out."

Standing, she stretched her arms over her head before testing her left shoulder, wincing in dull pain. It had been acting up lately, she mused quietly, as she transformed into her sleek vehicle mode, a large old style musclecar.

Without so much as a farewell to the ghost, she turned over her engine with a loud roar before rumbling towards the city at a moderate pace.

Starscream watched with narrowed emotions.

"You're resisting me, Arty," he chided softly. "But no matter...in the end, your position will be assured. You'll always be mine."

***

Portland, Oregon

Interstate 5

_"Too fast, too fast don't compromise, too fast, too fast won't realize, I have hand on wheel I set the sights, drive with me!"_

The white and black Cavalier Z-24 with red accents drove like a NASCAR trainee as the lyrics to Coal Chamber's "Big Truck" pulsed through her speakers, dodging through traffic that even the most reckless of rush hour drivers would have thought twice about making. Following close behind was a bright yellow Volkswagen Beetle trying to keep frantically up to the sportscar.

"Take it easy, Cav!" the Beetle exclaimed. "I'm not as maneuverable as you, you know!"

"Don't try to keep up with me!" she retorted swiftly. "I swear, I'm going Intimidator on these gasholes when I see them!"

"Ease up your throttle, kid!" the beat-up blue and grey pickup warned, picking up the Cavalier's flank. "You're going to get yourself blown apart!"

If the young Autobot had listened to the veteran, she made no indication, save for quite the opposite.

A crackle in the communications links alerted them for forthcoming updates.

 _"Kup, You're heading right into the Stunticons' playground,"_ Springer reported, his helicoptor form hovering a mile down the highway. _"Protectobots are cleaning up after them, but they need some help in pursuit!"_

"Music to my audio receptors!" Cavalier whooped, kicking up the RPMs even further, shooting past the other Autobots.

"Dammit! She's going to get herself killed!" Bumblebee swore.

"Hotspot, this is Kup," the old pickup hailed. "We're coming to assist, with Cavalier leading the charge. Make sure she doesn't get blown up until we get there."

 _"Stormrave here,"_ a crisp femme voice called out. _"I've got Sweep activity in Portland airspace. Permission to take them down?"_

 _"Permission granted, but take care!"_ Ultra Magnus's voice cracked out on the same frequency. _"Keep civilian damage to a minimum!"_

_"Acknowledged, sir."_

A large, streamline SUV, red with yellow and orange stylized flames painted on the sides, pulled parallel to the pickup truck, keeping to speed.

"Anyone pick up any of the big three?" the SUV demanded, answered only by a wave of negative responses, save one.

 _"I've got a visual, Rodimus,"_ the Protectobot Blades replied, maintaining a high aerial reconnaissance scan. _"Concentrated on the downtown area, with...oh, Primus...Devastator is with them!"_

"Silverbolt! We need Superion to get Devastator out of the downtown district, ASAP!" Rodimus Prime barked sharply. "Grimlock, you and your boys help Superion take out Devastator!"

 _"I don't like this,"_ Ultra Magnus commented darkly over the radio. _"Decepticons attacking in full force, as underpowered as they are...they must have used up most of their energy to get back to earth."_

"There's no way Astrotrain could have carried all those Decepticons," Rodimus added. "Speaking of which, Springer, Grooves, any visual of Astrotrain?"

 _"Negative, Rodimus,"_ the Protectobot reported.

 _"None in my sector, either,"_ Springer agreed, worry hinting his voice.

"That's what I was afraid of," Rodimus sighed.

 _"Trypticon,"_ Ultra Magnus exhaled.

"Well, on the bright side, Trypticon's probably so low on power, he's a sitting duck," Kup commented in hopes to raise morale.

"Let's hope you're right, old timer." With a burst of speed, Rodimus Prime pulled past Kup and Bumblebee, the Stunticons now in sight with Cavalier closing the gap between Decepticon and Autobot a little too quickly.

***

Autobot City

Listening into the conversations over multiple bandwidths, the Autobot communications expert mulled over the situations unfolding before his audio receptors, casting his gaze only momentarily behind him when he heard the door slide open.

"What's going on, Blaster?" the gloss black femme demanded, striding in without the normal femme's grace.

"Iacon received an emergency transmission from Sirian fringe space, the _Von's Blade._ "

"It's an oil tanker," one of Blaster's cohorts, a small cassette transformer, stated firmly. "Capable of hauling two-point-seven million gallons of crude petrol. Using Sirian fusion technology, the ship is able to maintain speeds of close to-"

"Rewind, I've heard of the _Von's Blade._ " Artemis waved her hand in an "enough" manner. "They were attacked?"

"They weren't," Blaster shook his head, his optics wide. "But Seti VIII was."

"Nouveau Alaska?" To this, the ex-mercenary's head snapped up. "It's out in the middle of nowhere. Why would anyone want that hunk of ice?"

"Obviously for the petrol," Blaster stated with a shrug.

"Normally, that would be a motive," Rewind interjected once more, "save for the fact that Artemis is right about it literally being in the middle of nowhere. To stake it for its renewable resources, one must be as financially secure as the Sirians, due to equipment costs and maintenance, skilled laborers-"

"All right, I get the picture, man," the red and gold Autobot held up his hands in defense.

"What happened to planetary defenses?" Artemis then questioned.

"Taken totally by surprise. They didn't know the ship was in the vicinity until it was right on top of them. By then, Petit-Juneau was vaped off the face of the planet. They never knew what hit them, and we probably wouldn't have had the _Blade_ not left at the time it did."

"Any clues who did it?"

Blaster gave her a grim smile. "The _Blade_ 's captain said it was Decepticons."

Artemis dimmed her optics in thought before lifting her head to Rewind.

"Give me a stellar map of the quadrant," she ordered. "Pinpoint Seti VIII in relation to Charr, Reicere, Cybertron and Cygnus VII."

"You're shifting into fifth," Blaster observed, "what's shaking?"

"Possible Decepticon attack. We can rule out Galvatron's crew, but that leaves Rejected and splinter Decepticons."

"Seti VIII is well over 70 light years from Reicere and Charr," Rewind stated as the stellar map in one of the smaller monitors animated the paths to each planet. "To access Seti VIII from just about anywhere, one must use a monitored warp gate near Sirius II."

"Meaning if they were to attack the planet, they would have to get there conventionally," Artemis nodded, "and take the long way there."

"Roughly six-five-point-four stellar cycles to travel the distance, yes."

"Well, I hope they had packed some magazines," Blaster whistled.

"Any images of the attacker's ship?" Artemis then asked.

"A couple," the communications chief nodded. "Rewind, roll that -"

"Yellow flag here!" Eject snapped. "Metroplex is picking up movement in the ventilation shafts, and it's in no way debris on the track!"

"I smell a rat," Blaster stood forcibly, pressing his ejection button swiftly. "And to catch a rat, send out a cat! Steeljaw, scope it out!"

The cassette door on his chest flipped open, releasing a gold cassette that transformed elegantly into the quadruped Autobot lion. Sniffing the air, Steeljaw regarded his master with a nod before darting towards the access to the ventilation system.

"Eject, watch his back," Blaster then ordered.

The small blue Autobot saluted. "Count on me, coach!" Deftly, he took pursuit of his feline brother.

Blaster's mouth grew into a grim line before regarding Artemis once more. "Ever get the feeling like the end is nigh?" he questioned earnestly.

"Every morning when I come out of my rest cycle," she retorted. "Let's see those pics, Rewind." Her mind, however, was elsewhere.

She knew who Steeljaw and Eject were pursuing.

And their presence meant trouble.

Not for the Autobots, per se.

That desolate, dark feeling deep within her spark seemed to flare up, encompassing her very being if only momentarily.

As much as she prayed that Blaster was wrong, she knew damn well he might be very right in his observation.

And the blurry image of the ship that replaced the stellar map did no good to her current mood.

*

The ventilation shaft was dark, echoing, and had Eject and Steeljaw not been used to the comforts of Blaster's chest cavity, claustrophobic.

His pistol cupped in his palm, Eject moved forward, Steeljaw just in front of him, sniffing the area. The further from the entrance grate they traveled, the darker it became, until the only thing the biped cassette could see was Steeljaw's outline.

"So this is what Rusty felt like when he was leading Earnhardt," Eject whispered casually. Steeljaw snorted a slight laugh. "I'm serious...I've got that feeling that we're going to get forced into the wall..."

Steeljaw stopped abruptly with a quizzical "Reowl?", causing Eject to run into him. Placing a hand on the lion's backside to right himself, Eject then realized that Steeljaw had come face to face with something that he didn't like, as his bestial question turned into a growl.

"What is it, bro?" Eject demanded. "Did Tony Stewart say something that even Fox had to bleep out?"

Had it been simply a rat, Steeljaw's growl would have been more of a groan at Eject's obscure NASCAR reference. Instead, the lion's growl grew more intense, causing the cassette to up his defenses.

Especially when another growl, this one higher pitched but equally mechanical and felinoid, joined Steeljaw's.

"Interception, Ravage!" Eject shouted, readying his pistol at the space ahead of Steeljaw. "You're in the defense zone with the visitor's disadvantage!"

"Is that so, Reject?" A very familiar voice called out as a bright pair of red optics shown from the darkness. "With all that racket you're making, you couldn't sneak up on Dale Jarrett driving the UPS truck."

"Do you mind leaving the sports references to me?" Eject protested. "Why don't you come out nice and slowly, Rumble...hands where I can see them..."

"How about not?" Raising his own pistol, the Decepticon spy cassette stepped a little closer. "You know, Reject, you've got two things against you. One, you're an idiot Autobot, and two...I'm Frenzy."

A hammer cocking at his temple caused Eject to wince in realization that he and Steeljaw had inadvertently walked into a trap.

"I'm Rumble," announced Frenzy's twin behind the Autobots.

"We won the coin toss," Frenzy chortled, "and you get to receive."

***

***

Four Winds Bar

Kethys, Sirius II

The royal blue hulk of a Decepticon stood rigid, his arms crossed over the cracked canopy of his chest, his one good ruby optic glaring at the video screen. His expression only gave away contempt for the image he was viewing currently; an asymmetrical ship, long, narrow, vicious. His attention, however, was keyed at the symbol on the side of the ship, followed by oddly familiar writing in a script most of the employees of this establishment recognized. The mood in the bar mirrored the grey, drizzly mid-afternoon outside.

"You've seen this before," the peppered grey Sirian male huffed, his stance mirroring the much larger Decepticon.

"I've seen something like this," Darxtar grumbled, his one working optic dimming considerably. "And frankly, I don't like it one bit."

"I don't think any of us do, Darxtar," the stocky blonde human female whispered, sitting on the bar with her legs swinging over the edge. "What is it?"

The Decepticon bartender growled intangibly, shaking his head.

A slight, nervous whine took precedence, however, as the attention of the nine employees of the bar shifted to the green and gold insectoid, standing rigor mortis, the only movement being the twitching of his antennae and mandibles.

"Waspy?" Minerva Ryder questioned, jumping from the countertop and striding over to the small Transformer, taking him by the shoulder gently. Wide, iridescent optics of violet and green shimmered in fear. "Waspinator, what's wrong?"

"He knows," Darxtar muttered.

Waspinator finally nodded, regaining control of his shell, his wings fluttering sporadically.

"Legion," he whimpered, cowering somewhat as though he feared the word itself.

"Who?" Drez demanded, shooting his gaze back up to the largest sentient in the room.

"Ten million stels ago," Darxtar began, pulling his stool towards the bar and sat solidly with a groan, "before Cybertron's Golden Age, the first Decepticons came to power."

"First Decepticons?" This question came from the most recent employee of Four Winds, another human, this one an auburn-haired young man, repeated, complete attention now on the situation.

"Yeah, mean bastards. Megatron paled in comparison." Crossing his arms over his chest once more, Darxtar leaned back, his optic dimming completely.

"So are you going to let us know the entire story?" Minerva questioned, "Mostly because I don't think we have time to play Twenty Questions."

The old Decepticon gave a brief shake of his head before standing up, striding from behind the bar to a table in the back corner, unofficially reserved for the Four Winds mercenaries. Sinking heavily onto the chair, he glared out from the shadows, his one glowing optic focused on a spot above the door.

"Darxtar," Drez growled.

"When I was built," the large robot began, his voice low, "there were no Autobot and Decepticon, only those who were built in Polyhex, and those built in Iacon. At that point, the Quintessons had been pretty much forgotten, and though it wasn't exactly a Golden Age, we were getting along pretty well, mostly trying to get a working government, commerce, and the like in order, working on communications around the globe, slag like that. Well, as we are a race built on conflict, the spokesperson of Polyhex, Maximo, challenged Sentinel Prime, at first politically." Darxtar swung a leg up onto the table and leaned back in the seat, folding his hands behind his head. "I was pretty young, probably seven stels off the assembly line, when Maximo struck out at Sentinel Prime and the Senate. The conflict was short, but bloody, enough to be called the Second Great War. Short as it was, it was about ten times worse than the Third."

"The Third Great War spent about three quarters of its length stagnant," Minerva commented. "I never heard much about the Second, however."

"And unless I told you, or the few of us still alive from the Second Great War, you won't, either." Darxtar rubbed the bridge of his nose, bowing his head. "In a quarter million stels, two-thirds of Cybertron's population was wiped out."

"Shit," Luke MacArin swore with a sharp exhale of breath.

"Maximo was finally overcome, and Sentinel Prime pretty much sent him and his cronies adrift into space. Then we built anew." With a half-shrug, the old Decepticon's one working optic dimmed once more. "Those who did remember that war hoped that Maximo and his crew died. Guess we're wrong."

A thick, pregnant silence blanketed the group, as the three Sirians, three humans, a Tauran, and a temporally displaced Predacon cast uncertain gazes at one another, mostly to the Predacon, who was trembling in fear.

"Maybe it's not them," Luke then stated. "Maybe it's some other faction..."

"Could it be your weapon dealers?" Raff Ravenwing, the tall dark complected male with bright blue eyes, questioned earnestly to Darxtar.

"They're recluses," Darxtar stated. "They didn't side with Megatron for the reason they didn't want to get involved with any politics. They may thirst for battle, but to slaughter helpless innocents is not their style." With a growl, the Decepticon then added, "I'll contact them anyway to see what they know."

"Raff, Brin, the two of you are going to Sol III," Drez then stated firmly. "Contact the Autobots there, let them know personally what we know." The larger human male and the petite black-furred Sirian dressed in tight black leather both agreed with solemn nods of their heads.

"Tell Kup," Darxtar corrected. "He's the security chief as well as an old comrade of mine."

"I'll go too," Minerva affirmed.

"After what you did last time?" Drez reminded. "I don't want another fuck-up like that, Ryder."

"Relax, old wolf," she held up her hands in defense. "I'll go as an Autobot; gotta try out my new transtector, after all." Winking, she then appended, "In any case, Raff and I have some other matters to deal with on Earth, like how the hell the Baen Sidhe and the Nebulons got involved with one another."

"Aw, shit, Minnie, you're going to drag me into that?" Raff whined.

"If he doesn't want to go-" Luke offered. She shook her head furiously.

"No, Luke. You're staying here." Her order was firm, not to be questioned. The younger man ducked his head and muttered a soft "okay."

"Agreed, against my better judgment," Drez nodded. "Luke, you, Barak and Waspinator are staying here. I need some of my employees present. Trin, I want the _Vengeance_ prepped in the case we need to send Tailgate out for patrols."

Just before the black and tan Sirian woman could remark, the large double doors were kicked inward, allowing rain to pour in on the hardwood floor.

"What the hell...?" Drez demanded as collectively the group turned to face their unannounced visitors.

Two Cybertronians stood, water gleaming their metal. Or rather, one stood, a blue and white Seeker, holding upright his much larger companion, a dark-grey and violet triple changer with rounded wings.

"Swindle sold us out," Thundercracker rumbled, helping Astrotrain into a chair. The triple changer groaned in pain, cradling his side.

"Slot!" Darxtar stood quickly, striding to the two. "What the hell happened?"

"Galvatron demanded to know everything that happened when we were here last," Astrotrain hissed, wincing as he tried to sit up. "He thought we were holding something, and he went directly to Swindle for answers."

"All the Decepticons still under his command went to Earth," Thundercracker continued for Astrotrain. "They're too frightened, Darxtar. They're not going to go along with the plan."

"What happened to you two?" The bartender demanded.

"Swindle fingered us exclusively," Astrotrain moaned. "I wasn't even part of this stupid plan!"

"The more names Swindle dropped, the less likely Galvatron would vape him," Thundercracker explained, exasperated, as though he had already been through this topic a hundred times. "Darxtar, please...as soon as Galvatron comes back from Earth, win or lose...he's gonna go after us. We need protection."

"Hey, I'm in charge here!" Drez barked.

"I don't ask for help from flesh creatures!" Thundercracker snapped back, his fist balled up at his sides, ready to pounce if it wasn't for Darxtar placing a warning hand on the Seeker's cockpit.

"I'll grant it, if you recognize Drez as the boss here," Darxtar ordered sternly. "I owe him a great deal, so if I can swallow my Decepticon pride and agree to his terms, you can too. Or else it's Reicere or death."

With a defeated sigh, Thundercracker nodded.

"Fine," he agreed, before adding, "Astrotrain needs patching up."

"I'll take care of that," Trin offered. "Darxtar, Thundercracker, bring him to the hangar. More room to work in."

"Wait a minute! I didn't agree yet!" With a snarl, Drez added, "Fine. Patch him up. I'll think about them staying here. In the meantime, Darxtar, you're responsible for these two!"

"Thanks, old wolf," Darxtar smiled grimly. "Thundercracker, you're coming with me."

"Huh?" This seemed to have taken the Seeker by surprise.

"I'm heading to Cygnus VII. You're coming with me."

This appeared as though Thundercracker was contemplating taking his chances with Galvatron.

"The Pretenders?" he questioned. "Why?"

"Yep. I'll fill you in why on the way. C'mon."

"Send us a message when you arrive," Drez ordered the older Decepticon. Darxtar saluted as he and Thundercracker helped Astrotrain to his feet, helping him walk to the back of the bar with Trin picking up the rear.

"I can't believe the two of you," Drez growled, baring teeth at Minerva. "I didn't hire you because of your damned charity streaks!"

"Calm down, Drez," Minerva patted his arm and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. "Remember, we tend to find those who will pull their weight around here. Darxtar could use an assistant and Astrotrain would help out in transport."

The Sirian man growled more and shook his head.

"Howl-damned women," he cursed, pulling his arm back and sulking towards Luke and Waspinator. "Get the hell out of here! You've got your orders! Now get!"

As Minerva, Brin, and Raff ventured to the back as well, Barak, silent throughout the entire staff meeting, stood, his bovine form towering over his employer, the young human man, and former Predacon wasp.

"An ill wind blows in our direction," he commented, his voice incredibly deep.

"Gonna scry in your beer for us?" Drez jested. The Tauran snorted a laugh.

"Piss off, boss," he retorted, lumbering to the bar. "What about Artemis?"

"You think Swindle dropped her name as well?" the Sirian questioned.

"I don't think he had to," Barak shook his head, his gold-tipped horns glinting the ceiling lights. "She was a mercenary who was a bit too cozy with Galvatron's rival. I think that would automatically put her on top of his list."

"Little we can do now. She's with the Autobots." With a chuckle, he added, "if anything happens to her, it's out of their hide, not ours."

"Still, she's one of my Spirals," Barak warned. "We contracted her out, but she's still Four Winds."

"Dammit, Barak, you want me to show concern over one of my girls, don't you?" Pointing an accusing finger at the bovine, Drez gave a slight growl. "Yes, I am concerned about her. But she can take care of Galvatron; she's got the resources available to take care of him outside the Four Winds. I don't hire incompetent idiots, you know." With a chortle, he then flipped his thumb toward Waspinator. "Save him, of course, but we all make mistakes."

"Waspinator resents that remark," Waspinator whimpered. Luke patted the small Transformer's shoulder.

"He's just teasing," Luke reassured. "Hell, he calls me an idiot too."

"You're an idiot for defending him! Now get back to work! I don't pay you for standing around and chatting!"

"You pay us?" Luke gasped melodramatically. To this, Barak let out a loud guffaw as Drez glared at the young man, who sheepishly held up his hands. "Okay, I'm sorry! Waspy, let's get outta here before he decides to eat our entrails."

In a way, the light-hearted joking was good for the spirit, Drez thought to himself. But for how long would it last before they would need to shift gears towards the more dire nature of things...?

Interstate 5

Oregon

Wildrider had once seen a human stock car race a few years back.

One day, he and his brothers were out causing general mayhem when they came across the sounds of heavy motors. Curious, they rolled to the gate to watch forty-three cars going 'round and 'round a circular track. The grandstands were packed with very erratic humans, all waving flags and shouting and cursing and throwing random stuff from food to beer bottles.

Being bored, the Stunticons decided to sit back and watch this for something different to do.

And then, the most beautiful thing they had ever seen on Earth transpired.

One car, painted with a kaleidoscope of colors and a yellow number 24 on the doors, seemed to be the leader of the race, when from out of the blue, the same model car, only painted black with red and silver with a white number 3, broke through from the rest of the cars and bumped the leader, causing the number 24 car to spin into the wall, rebounding and taking out about ten other cars, leaving the number 3 in the lead as the human above the finish line waving the yellow flag furiously.

Talk about debris on the track.

The Stunticons were floored, especially when the crowd of humans surrounding the track practically went even more insane, cheering hysterically or shouting obscenities, as more beer bottles rained down.

It was perhaps the best time of their stay on Earth.

However, as Wildrider was forced into the guardrail by a hard shove from behind, spinning uncontrollably around the agile white and black Cavalier that had tagged him, he knew exactly what Jeff Gordon had felt. Crashing into Breakdown, both Stunticons found themselves coming at rest against the interstate median wall with a sickening crunch, only to be joined by Dead-end, who had not been paying attention to the accident, crashing head-first into both of his brothers.

Dragstrip, running parallel with Motormaster, only had a few more seconds than Dead-end to contemplate what the hell had happened before being bumped roughly on his left, sending him spinning underneath his leader. Before Motormaster could fully fathom what had transpired, his rear tires rolled over the unfortunate Stunticon full force. Transforming with an agonizing cry, Dragstrip crashed five-hundred feet past his three brothers, whimpering, unable to move any further.

"Slot...there goes my paintjob..." Cavalier complained, however cheerful, taking up the spot where Dragstrip had been moments before.

"You think you're clever, Autobrat," Motormaster snarled, slowing down somewhat for his cab to run side by side with the brash Autobot.

"I think this calls for a change in music," she commented brightly as AC/DC's "Who Made Who" blared through her sound system. Ignoring the larger Decepticon seemed to infuriate him even further as, with a battle cry, he jerked sharply to the left as to run her into the median wall. Swiftly, she downshifted, dropping back to his trailer and darting underneath, between the raised docking stands and the rear tires, sparks flying where her roof scraped against the underside of the Stunticon leader. Escaping to the right hand side of Motormaster, she floored the gas, shifting back into her high gear and shot past him as he tapped the wall, sending sparks in the wake. Yanking back, Motormaster took pursuit of the sportscar, his engine hitting a telltale rumble as he too picked up speed, his gears shifting hard.

"Okay, so this dude's going to go down a little harder," she grumbled, her voice expressing more frustration than anything before Brian Johnson's wailing voice belted out from her stereo. This seemed to make her more cheerful as she sang along. "'The video game says "play me," face it on a level but it takes you every time on a one on one! Feeling running down your spine, nothing gonna save your one last dime 'cuz it owns you! Through and through!' Hey, Ultra Magnus! What's your 20?"

_"My...what?"_

_"She wants to know where you are,"_ Kup interrupted, however dryly. _"And your going to give my fuel pump a seizure if you keep driving as reckless as you-"_

"Yeah, yeah, yeah...whatever." In her rearview, Motormaster gunned forward, closing the gap between the two. Still singing along with the song, Cavalier veered right onto an exit ramp, to avoid any further collision. "I could use an assist here!"

 _"Locked onto your position,"_ Magnus grumbled, clearly preparing to ream her out once they returned to Autobot City. _"No more high risk maneuvers!"_

"Sure, yeah, whatever you say, sir." Snorting, she added under her breath, "On the way back we can stop at Midas and have them check out that rod stuck up your exhaust..."

 _"Cav, your radio’s still on!"_ Rodimus warned in a cross between mortification and amusement. Although vocally silent, Ultra Magnus's exasperated glare was nearly audible all in itself over the radio waves.

The white and black Autobot cackled somewhat before noting her rearview again. Motormaster had followed and was picking up speed by the second. Unlike her, who had no regard for Decepticons but quite the opposite for her fellow Autobots as well as humans, the Stunticon leader was the poster child for equal opportunity road rage, taking out guardrails, pylon cones, and water-filled construction barrels in his pursuit of her. Ahead of her, the exit ramp widened onto an evacuated street. Downshifting with her brake, she left a smoking patch as she made a sharp turn right, shifting up fast and hard. Once more checking her rearview, she watched with sadistic glee as Motormaster attempted to negotiate the turn, but failed, his trailer causing too much of a wide turn, forcing him to slow down considerably or else risk overturning. With that extra time, she snatched up on precious seconds, darting towards the center of the downtown area. As Motormaster picked up more speed, he was clipped hard by a white tractor trailer with a blue and white car carrier, overtaking him swiftly and pulling hard in front of him, before the brake lights of the carrier snapped on.

Ramming little Autobots from behind was one thing. Dealing with big Autobots, on the other hand, was not his style.

Slamming on his own brakes, Motormaster swerved sharply to avoid collision, only to feel his trailer begin to twist a little too much, rocking off the right tires, tipping. Attempting to compensate, the Stunticon leader only succeeded in jackknifing his entire rig, his cab meeting a similar fate as his trailer as it dragged him onto his side. Quickly transforming, he did so, only too late, as Ultra Magnus stood over him, the barrel of his rifle at gross point blank.

"Autobots," the Autobot City commander hailed, as Motormaster groaned, watching angrily as the white and black sportscar disappeared over the horizon, "Menasor has been neutralized."

*

Oh, she knew she was going to hear from Kup and Ultra Magnus when they got back to base. But it's well worth it, a job well done, even though she would need to spend a little time with Jazz and Tracks in the body shop. No loss there; it's time she got a new paint job anyway.

A tremor in the tarmac caused the petite Autobot to swerve; reverting to robot mode, she slid to her knees, readying her railgun as she scanned the area. She didn't have to look too long; a giant foot that seemed to have been built from a cement mixer slammed hard into the pavement where she had once been.

"Slot!" she swore, activating her radio. "Yo, boys! In case you missed it, we've got Devastator sighting!"

Scrambling back to her feet and slinging her railgun over her shoulder, she bolted, returning to vehicle mode to put more distance between her and perhaps the most powerful gestalt in Cybertron history. Sometime down the road, she would brag about how she was able to seriously take out Menasor; however, facing Devastator single-handedly was one bragging right she was not going to attempt to earn.

 _"Cav! Converge on our signal!"_ Rodimus ordered through the radio. Giving a slight noise of affirmation, she locked onto his radio signature and downshifted to take a tight corner onto a wide main street. There, she saw Superion, with the Dinobots by his feet. Rushing from behind the gestalt and the Dinobots were the other Autobots, twelve more in addition to the Dinobots and the Aerialbots. Darting between Superion's legs, she slammed on her brakes and turned sharply, leaving smoking tire marks on the pavement as she about-faced, falling into line with the other Autobots, taking up Rodimus's right flank, opposite of Kup.

"Bitch her later, Kup," Rodimus warned just as Kup took a breath. "We've got more things to worry about right now."

"Like the big-ass mofo coming our way?" Jazz questioned, his voice rushed, as Devastator rounded the corner somewhat clumsily, towering over Superion by almost thirty feet.

"Like the big-ass mofo coming our way," Rodimus agreed dryly as the battle procession slowed down to a complete halt, transforming together as one unit.

*

On top of the skyscraper overlooking the potential battle, crazed red optics gleamed in anticipation.

Galvatron, the setting sun glinting off his gold-hued arm cannon, smiled wickedly as Devastator moved into check. With Bruticus as a backup, there was no hope for the Autobots now.

"Cyclonus," he beckoned his second-in-command. Faithful to a fault, and intelligent to boot, the blue Unicron-built Decepticon stepped forward with a slight bow.

"Yes, my lord?" he questioned smoothly.

Galvatron turned his head to regard the seemingly humbled subordinate, not noticing Scourge's jealous glare at Cyclonus.

"It's time we took our trumps," Galvatron chortled. "Have Trypticon attack Autobot City."

"Of course, my lord." Standing upright, Cyclonus leapt off the building, transforming into his sleek jet mode. Scourge's optics followed the trail of exhaust before bending one knee to his lord.

"Lord Galvatron, what will you have of me?" he then questioned quickly, eager to please.

"Take your Sweeps and dispose of the Autobot flyers," Galvatron placed a hand on the loyal Sweep commander's shoulder, as though willing Scourge to rise. Enthusiastically, Scourge did so with a nod.

"It is done, my lord. I will bring you their heads."

Following suit of Cyclonus, Scourge banked sharply towards the two non-gestalt Autobot jets still maintaining a holding pattern over the main street.

Finally, Galvatron turned to the final member of this elite rooftop club. The one non-Unicron-built Decepticon he still held respect for, Soundwave watched the scene passively, arms crossed over his chest.

"I want you to remain up here," Galvatron ordered the silent dark-blue sentry. "Keep tabs on your spies. If they run into any trouble, contact me."

`"Of course, Lord Galvatron,"` Soundwave nodded shortly, his voice and expression, as usual, electronically stoic. Unlike Cyclonus and Scourge, Soundwave would not grovel, nor did he have any need to. In times past, even if Starscream was Megatron's second in command, all knew that if anything would happen to Megatron, Soundwave would be his named successor, as much as Starscream would protest. Some of that thought transferred to Galvatron, and while the mad leader couldn't care less what happened to the other Decepticons, Soundwave was the only one from the once-glorious Decepticon army who still held a shred of respect from Galvatron, even more so than Cyclonus and Scourge.

Which was why Galvatron had spent so much effort trying to rid the loyal spymaster of the virus he had contracted from Unicron a stellar cycle past.

Without any more words, Galvatron launched off, taking flight towards the massive violet and green gestalt as Soundwave watched on.

From the corner of his optic, he noticed a slight movement, a stir of air. A shape, more with his mind's optic than visually, began to unfold, a very familiar shape, in fact, one Soundwave knew quite well.

`"I can see you, Starscream,"` he revealed in a monotone.

Once again, within his internal senses, he witnessed the ghost step back, as though surprised.

"How?" the demand was shrill, shocked even.

Soundwave chose not to answer this, giving the impression that he was, in fact, ignoring Starscream. This action, or rather lack of, pulled the deceased Air Commander out of his initial surprise.

"Answer me, Soundwave. How can you see me?"

`"Shall I go into scientific detail, or will 'because I can' suffice?"`

The sarcasm was totally out of character for the spymaster; this time, Starscream did not express his surprise.

"Why do I have the feeling Unicron gave you this ability?" Quickly, his presence paced forward, as though walking around Soundwave, facing him.

`"Unicron is doing everything in his power to shift the scales-"`

"-to his favor, I know, I know."

`"Negative."`

"My, you are just full of surprises today, aren't you, old friend? If not to his favor, then why is he doing it?"

`"Order has gone out of control."`

To this, Starscream said nothing.

`"The universe is degrading, like all things material," `Soundwave continued, taking up a tone that was short of reminding. `"From absolute order comes entropy."`

"I find it hard to believe that the Great Destroyer Unicron does not have an ulterior motive other than preventing the cosmic entropy."

`"You would find it hard to believe."` Soundwave turned sharply to the spectre, staring deep at him as though he was physically there. The only difference in Soundwave was the sudden green glow in his optic band. `"I have found a use for you, Starscream."`

"Is that so?" Now that Soundwave's behavior made sense, Starscream resumed his normally cocky attitude. "And why should I heed you, almighty Unicron?"

`"I will make it worth your while. I will give back what you had possessed, and more. But the terms can be discussed later. For now, I wish to watch this game in peace."` Turning his back on the ghost, Soundwave crossed his arms over his chest, his cold gaze on Devastator lunging at Superion.

"What terms?" Starscream demanded. "Tell me, Unicron! What are your terms!"

He might as well been shouting at a brick wall; the spymaster made no effort to acknowledge the dead Decepticon. With an angry huff, Starscream willed himself away from the skyscraper.

Unicron's lightly delivered comment intrigued him, however; a new shell, perhaps? Power that he had only imagined? Leadership of the Decepticons?

It was too good of a deal to pass up. After all, what would a dead god possibly want? And furthermore, if it was anything short of selling out his spark, what moral taboos was Starscream willing to break?

Oh, wait, he chortled to himself. Moral taboos was beneath him.

Especially if he was to become a god.

*

Ultra Magnus joined the Autobots from the rear, transforming straight into a run and bolting to the front lines towards Rodimus and Kup.

"The Stunticons have been dealt with accordingly," he exclaimed quickly, his optics on the battle between the two gestalts, Superion attempting to keep any property damage at a minimum, with little avail.

"The Decepticons are converging onto us, Rodimus!" Blades exclaimed, landing in the midst of his fellow Protectobots. First Aid's hand clenched into a fist as he stepped forward to address his leaders. "We need to keep human casualties at a minimum!" he interjected. "Please, sir, we should send a scout out to make sure the humans were in fact completely evacuated!"

"And if Bruticus shows up?" Hotspot took hold of his fellow Protectobot's shoulder.

"I'll be able to air evac if we need to," Springer volunteered, stepping forward. "As long as Powerglide and Stormrave can keep the Sweeps off of me."

Cavalier, being unusually quiet as though daydreaming, her head cocked to one side, her optics somewhat dimmed. Quickly, she snapped her attention upwards, swinging her railgun to ready.

"Cracked their freq! We've got incoming!" she barked.

"Springer, go!" Rodimus ordered. "Stormer, Powerglide, did you hear that?"

 _"Loud and clear, Rod!"_ Powerglide acknowledged.

 _"Mission accepted! Springer, we've got your tailpipe covered!"_ Stormrave added.

Transforming into his ground vehicle mode, Springer gunned down the street, fishtailing shortly before finding enough traction to maintain an acceptable speed to his bulk, deftly avoiding the laser fire from enemy troops.

"Superion, get Devastator out of the city!" Rodimus ordered. "Protectobots, keep your optics peeled for Bruticus! The rest of us in a loose defensive; I want to be able to get cover if we need to. Cav, radio Blaster and tell him to send Omega Supreme to meet up with Superion outside the city; tell him Superion will need help dealing with Devastator if he's feeling uncooperative."

"Lad, is that wise?" Kup demanded.

"Like Magnus said," Rodimus retorted, his voice dark, older, "at this point, we need to neutralize the enemy. Autobots, let's roll!"

***

Cybertron Defense Hub

Iacon, Cybertron

Above the space port, the tall femme watched through the large bay windows as the evac personnel helped refugees out of the rescue shuttles. Her arms crossed over her abdomen, she stood in a hip shot, her bright blue optics contemplating what had just happened.

Sky Patrol had come across a battered ship, brimming with Autobot survivors of a until recently forgotten colony, roughly a solar cycle ago. Decepticons, as expected, were the culprits in the attack; however, cross-checking stellar charts with where they had found the ship and every known pirate and rogue Decepticon bases proved of little use; too far to be of any strategic advantages, too random, little to no proof.

Much like Seti VIII.

The femme, the florescent lights reflecting harshly against her rose paint, pivoted sharply to venture outside, to meet the refugees, to find out what really happened on their planet.

She watched as Warpath and Firestar attempted to calm one of the refugees, a rather vocal male who nearly physically lashed out at them, yelling angrily. He was young, perhaps from the same generation as Warpath, with an orange and black paint job and a very odd transformation, it seemed, as she found herself trying to figure out what he transformed into. Shaking the thought from her head, she approached the three Autobots.

"Warpath, Firestar, report," she ordered briskly.

"You in charge here?" the male ordered sharply, pushing away Warpath and marching straight to the femme. "Just what the hell is going on here? My ancestors left this ball of scrap to get away from your stupid little war, and now they're bringing it to us! They destroyed our home!"

"Please," she held up her hand in defense, her voice even, low, cool. "Yes, I am in charge here. My name is Elita One. Calm down, and tell me what happened."

The male gulped for a breath, nodded, and exhaled forcibly. "My name is Sandstorm," he introduced, a little calmer. "I was speaker elect in our Senate, on Paradron. We were attacked without warning by Decepticons a decacycle ago. They destroyed everything we built, and massacred the majority of our people." With a wave of his hand, he indicated the other Autobots surrounding the medical and other emergency personnel. "We're all that's left of Paradron, Elita One. We were the lucky ones. It was just by luck we came across a working warp-gate; the creatures who manned it gave us coordinates to Cybertron."

"The Sirians?" Elita One questioned.

"I think so. They were small, furry organic creatures." Taking another deep breath, Sandstorm then asked, "What will you do about it, ma'am? We've got to stop the Decepticons. I told the Senate we needed to be better prepared in the case of attack, and this is what happened...I don't want to see it happen again, not to other Autobots, not to their allies...we tried to escape the war, but we ended up only prolonging the inevitable."

"It's all right, Sandstorm." Placing a reassuring hand on the young Autobot's shoulder, she stared deep into his optics. "You're safe here. We'll find out who did this to your home. In the meantime, we welcome you to stay here as long as you wish."

"My people would like that, as long as they're safe," he nodded, fighting to keep the child still within him from coming to the surface. "I think they know that we can't keep hiding from war with the Decepticons now. We're mostly merchants and medics, but we'll help out where we can."

"I'm gravely sorry for what has happened to your people," Elita One bowed her head. "But we will do what we can to bring the Decepticons who did this to justice."

"Thank you, ma'am," Sandstorm nodded shortly. "I...I have one request."

Elita One regarded the youth with a curious expression.

"Our rescuers spoke of Galvatron," he revealed. "They said he was probably behind this."

"Remotely possible, but unlikely," Elita One explained. "Galvatron is fighting our forces on Sol III. He would not have had time to reach Paradron in time to attack both places within a decacycle."

"Besides, those Decepticreeps already had the kazam kicked out of them," Warpath interjected.

"At this point, they're desperate," Firestar added. "They're fighting a losing battle."

"So you think there's other Decepticon factions out there?" Sandstorm questioned.

"It seems to be that way," the rose-colored femme answered truthfully.

Sandstorm grew quiet, his expression thoughtful. "Sol III," he whispered. "I want to go there on your next transport."

This actually took the defense leader by surprise. "What for?"

"I...I can't explain it," Sandstorm turned away. "Just...I just want to see the enemy myself, I suppose. So I know who we're up against."

"I'll think about your request, Sandstorm," she exclaimed. "Get some rest. You had a long day."

Firestar took a couple of steps forward, standing next to Sandstorm and placing a friendly hand on his shoulder, guiding him into the complex. As Elita watched with sullen optics, her communications device beeped.

 _"Elita-One, you have a call from the Covenant,"_ Chromia chirped. _"Do you want me to tell them you'll call back?"_

"No, I'll be right in to take it, thank you, Chromia." With a brooding step, the rose femme strode back into the center, her thoughts dark.

If not Galvatron, then who? She found herself wondering, entering her office and flipping on the monitor screen.

"Yes, Emirate?" she stated with no formal introduction. The monitor revealed a digital video of an elder Autobot in gold hue, his blue optics worried, concerned, with a hint of...fear?

 _"Elita-One, thank Primus I could reach you,"_ he greeted. _"At your earliest convenience, I need to speak to you exclusively. This is matter concerning us all, and there is just too many factors to call off as coincidence."_

"What happened, Emirate?"

_"Elita, I fear...I fear that Primus is awakening."_

"What?"

 _"Come to the Covenant as soon as possible. I will explain everything as best as I can to you. I'm sorry for disturbing your busy schedule. Good day."_ With that, the image blinked off, now showing the Autobot symbol as a screen saver.

She sat back at her desk, staring at the now void screen. Cupping her chin, she pondered the emirate's words. A god with a dwindling following, awakening from a near-endless sleep? Her own faith, strong in her youth, given up at the start of the Great Wars, had come back only a few stels past, after the emergence of Unicron, the Great Destroyer. It was nearly an exodus as flocks of Cybertronians, mostly Autobots, returned to the Covenant of Primus to repent their sins, but once Unicron was destroyed, the interest, once more, ebbed, and almost as quickly as it started, the religion returned to obscurity.

She maintained some faith, however, but skepticism still gnawed at her spark.

It really wouldn't hurt to hear the elder Autobot's words, she then decided, standing from her desk.


	2. Primus on the Dashboard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thundercracker joins Darxtar on a fact-finding mission to a fringe Decepticon outpost, only to learn about the true past of Megatron's Legacy; Sandstorm defies Elita One's orders as she searches for more esoteric answers to her questions; and Octane takes Trypticon for walkies at the most inopportune time for Galvatron's push.
> 
> And Unicron moves his favor away from the mad Decepticon to someone worthy of his gifts...but for a price.

***

Cygnus VII

A large planet, Cygnus VII was a colony planet of Cybertron from long ago. Unlike most colonies, however, this one was Polyhex-based.

In the past, just as the third Cybertronian War was taking shape, one leader of Polyhex, an imposing figure named Thunderwing, wanted nothing to do with the war, especially with Megatron. They were military, yes, and they loved to battle, but Megatron's ideas were too radical, too brash. No, his rebellion would never work, Thunderwing had laughed in the younger robot's face at the suggestion.

And when Megatron's rebellion did indeed follow through, Thunderwing and his followers realized they were in fact next in Megatron's conquests.

Thunderwing was a proud Cybertronian. He would never balk to Megatron, would not accept his superiority, would not bend his knee to the young tyrant. Therefore, rather than challenge him, Thunderwing and his troops picked up their roots and overtook a formerly Iacon colony of Cygnus VII.

An agreement was made between Thunderwing and Megatron after a million stels: Neither of them would bother the other. All Thunderwing's Decepticons wanted to be left alone. Megatron could have the universe, and Thunderwing would have his one planet to call home.

However, what Megatron did not know was that Thunderwing and his Decepticons were constantly building. Weapons were their specialty, weapons no one had ever seen before, exotic, strange, unusual weapons, heavily coveted by many a warmongering or peacekeeping race. Rokkans carried Cygnus-built rifle/cannons, Sirians favored the smaller liquid cooled railguns, amongst many other races around the galaxy; the more powerful weapons, however, were kept in secret.

Of all the Decepticon factions known to the Intragalactic Alliance, Thunderwing's was indeed the quietest, the least likely to strike out at outsiders. More recluse, they seemed to prefer the concept of commerce over war.

Of course, that was only scratching the surface.

In theory, Thunderwing was more ruthless than Megatron had been. The older Decepticon had remembered the second War, remembered the cruelty of Liege Maximo, learned from it. His patience and wisdom kept Thunderwing under the radar of Autobot and Decepticon alike, planning on the day when they would challenge the universe.

At this point, however, it was perhaps best to allow the splinter groups of Decepticons to ruin their reputation from being a galactic power to quarrelsome, nettlesome pirates worth no heed.

Then, and only then, will he show the true merit of the Decepticon Army.

But, in the meantime, Thunderwing would concentrate on being the largest arms dealer in the quadrant.

The silver and blue ship was a regular to this planet, regular being once every stel or so. The name of the ship,  _ Little Revenge _ , was written in Sirian, Cybertronian, and Terran script across the fuselage. Specifically made for long distance Cybertronian transport, the  _ Little Revenge _ was in fact smaller than most, its cargo usually ammunition and hand-held weapons.

Thundercracker, like most of Megatron's Decepticons, normally would have steered away from Cygnus VII. Rumors of vile monsters built and bred there were fanciful, and for most definitely made up, but still, it didn't hurt to just avoid the planet like cosmic rust.

He was apprehensive, yes, as he stood with Darxtar on the unloading ramp. Shorter than the Seeker by nearly a full head, Darxtar scanned the area before venturing down the ramp, towards the, for lack of a better word, pavilion of the rudimentary space port. Thundercracker followed closely behind, his gaze anxious, especially towards the oddly-shaped Decepticon workers glaring at him exclusively. Darxtar, they didn't seem to mind, but the Seeker seemed to bring expressions of hatred and resentment.

"I'm not welcome here," Thundercracker rumbled for Darxtar's audio receptors only. The older Decepticon nodded but did not say any more until they reached the main part of the pavilion, giving the impression of a sort of bazaar as different vendors shouted out to the crowd in attempts to sell their wares. The shops, all sturdy metal buildings with open storefronts to allow sales from the street, ranged from second-hand weapons, accessories, affordable mid-range wares, and the more expensive, unique commodities that had never before been seen off planet.

"You're an assembly line model," Darxtar retorted. "To them, you're little more than a drone."

Fighting a protest, Thundercracker's expression grew dejected, almost hurt.

"Don't dwell on it, kid," the older Decepticon suggested, clapping the Seeker's shoulder. "These bastards pride themselves in building each one as differently from one another as possible, the uglier, the better...speaking of the devil, here's our shop."

The shop was very similar to the others, save for the fact that there were more hand to hand weapons than firearms displayed, therefore, there weren't that many patrons going towards this particular shop. Thundercracker noticed Darxtar preparing himself as though getting ready for a fight as the older Cybertronian pushed aside the metallic red curtain with archaic gold script. Standing close behind, but far enough to step if they were in fact walking into a battle, the Seeker followed Darxtar into the darkened shop. When nothing jumped them, Darxtar seemed more disappointed and perhaps a little worried, his one-opticked gaze falling on a lone figure sitting in the darkness. Thundercracker had difficulty making out details, save for the figure appeared to be cradling a sword.

"This is unlike you, old friend," Darxtar commented lightly.

"Business has been slow," a low, trilling voice remarked, lacking emotion as the figure stood, the sword tip dropping downward. "And I wish for battle. But you have no honor, Darxtar. You cheat to gain the upper hand. I do not challenge you."

"If I must choose between life and honor, then I think I'll stick with life."

"Who is your companion?" With a cautious step, the shopkeeper approached, slowly, apprehensive. "Surely not that brash young idiot who accompanied you ten stels ago-"

"No, he's dead, I assure you, Bludgeon. This is his brother, Thundercracker. Good kid, likes to fight too, but within reason. Kid, this is the only bastard in this place I would ever call a comrade, Bludgeon."

"With friends like you, who needs enemies?" The shopkeeper scoffed, entering the light from the window. Thundercracker could now see Bludgeon's face, a strange helm casting ghastly shadows on his metallic skeletal face. He was lank, with broad shoulders, slightly taller than the Seeker. Darxtar had called him Decepticon; however, he could neither see an insignia nor an apparent alt mode on the strangely armored shell. Snatching out a skeletal hand, Bludgeon took hold of Thundercracker's chin and forced the Seeker's gaze into his own optics, blackened holes with only red pinpoints in the center, burning brightly. "Who are you loyal to, boy?"

_ Boy? _ Thundercracker's fear was pushed back slightly by the insult. Not including the time in stasis, he was five million stels old! Not even considered middle aged by Cybertronian standards, but certainly not a child!

"Answer me!" the death-head Decepticon rattled, shaking the Seeker's contempt back into the deep pit of emotion.

"I am loyal to the Decepticon cause of independence!" Thundercracker stammered swiftly, his normally deep voice taking an octave higher than normal. "Galvatron has branded me a traitor because of it!"

"You don't even know where the term Decepticon came from!" Releasing the younger Transformer with a shove, Bludgeon returned his hollow gaze to Darxtar. "It has only been seven quartexi since your last visit, old friend. What brings you back to Cygnus?"

"The Sirian settlement on Seti VIII was destroyed," Darxtar jumped right into the point. "Have you heard anything of this?"

"Thunderwing isn't Galvatron. He's far from blind," Bludgeon warned, sheathing his sword. "Seti VIII has no value to us, since we produce resources tenfold here than we ever could on that ice planet."

"Still, you haven't heard anything from outsiders...?"

"Perhaps." Stroking the chin guard of his helm, Bludgeon pondered Darxtar's question. "Pirates from the fringe space brought in a ship for scrap a few decacycles ago, one no one seemed to be able to pinpoint an origin. At least, until we delved into the computer system.” To this, Bludgeon grew deathly silent.

"Thunderwing believes Legion has returned as well," Darxtar whispered. Bludgeon gave a soft nod. "Slot."

"You believe they were the ones who attacked Seti VIII." A statement, rather than a question, Bludgeon glanced back at Thundercracker, as though scrying an answer from the Seeker.

"We got an image of a rather large ship coming from the Seti system," Darxtar revealed, pulling a disk from a compartment in his arm. Handing it to the taller Decepticon, he added, "it's got a familiar purple logo and very familiar script. It's stylized differently, but very similar to our own language."

Bludgeon trilled in thought before turning to a computer terminal on a desk nearby, different swords and knives piled neatly on its surface. Inserting the disk, the skull glared at the monitor as the image blinked up.

"Very old. Archaic, even. You're right; it is Decepticon." Returning attention to the other two Decepticons, he then added, "the ship is called the  _ Twilight.  _ The language is an ancient Polyhex cuneiform script, one that is for the most part forgotten." With a sharp exhale of breath, Bludgeon bowed his head. "This is most unfortunate."

Bludgeon abruptly pounced Thundercracker, his hand wrapped around the Seeker's neck, pulling him to the monitor and thrusting his face mere microns from the screen, his nose against LCD panel only enough to slightly discolor the display.

"That is your history, child," Bludgeon snarled. "That is where we all who bear the Decepticon title originated from. Listen well, and I will tell you our dark past."

***

Covenant of Primus

Iacon, Cybertron

The hall was dimly lit by small, phosphorescent lighting embedded into the walls, casting slight however eerie shadows on the wall of the church.

The rose-colored femme walked in step with the golden-hued Autobot, his hands clasped behind his back.

"Thank you for seeing me, Elita," the emirate expressed his gratitude. "The keepers have been very defensive the past couple of stels, but lately, they've been downright secretive, even to me. The last time I've seen them this agitated is when Sentinel Prime had died, just before the beginning of the Third Great War."

"You spoke of Primus awakening," Elita One pointed out, "what does that mean?"

"As you know, Primus is Cybertron." Raising his hands, the emirate made a gesture as though to encompass the world. "He is aware, but he sleeps. We are his dream. But I fear that his dream is becoming a nightmare, and that is what is stirring him from his eternal slumber." Dropping his arms to his side, the gold Autobot shook his head. "The scriptures are speak of an ancient evil rising up once more; of course, I believed this was referring to Unicron."

"But it wasn't?"

"Unicron can never be fully destroyed, Elita. We only destroyed his shell, but not his spark, his essence. But he cannot challenge Primus. Not in his current state." Pivoting into an alcove without much warning, the emirate walked a short distance before reaching an open door. There, a cloaked figure hunched over a large tome paid them no heed.

"Who is that?" Elita questioned.

"That is a keeper. They have served Primus since the Quintessons began building us, over twenty million stellar cycles ago."

_ She possesses a Matrix shard, Xaaron. _

"Yes, your grace, she was rebuilt by Alpha Trion at the dawn of the Third Great War."

Elita One's optics widened in surprise. The keeper looked up, his face hooded completely.

"His voice..."

_ You hear me because of the shard within your spark. My kind are servants to Primus, with no need of true speech. We do not converse often, only when needed. _ A gender-neutral voice rang through, not her head, as internal communications or telemetry, but more resonating through her spark.

"Your grace, have you found any more clues to the passage?"

_ Those who were cast from Primus's dream shall return to challenge his children once more, and these will be called Legion. _

Elita remained silent, listening, as the emirate and the keeper continued their cryptic conversation.

_ The false creators will rise up from their own ashes. _

"There is one passage that stumps us all," Emirate Xaaron revealed. "Book of the Pilot, datatrack 1: 'And the False Prophet shall be thy savior in the time of darkness, when those who bear the name of Legion bring evil to Primus's holy plane.'"

_ With Heretic, Heathen, and Healer as the Prophet's apostles, uniting Primus's children against Legion. _ The keeper resumed its reading, growing silent once more.

"I don't understand," Elita shook her head.

"The previous Book, Book of the Vanguard, speaks of a cataclysm that will send the Chosen One away, leaving the Matrix to the Vanguard. From there, it describes a long, bloody battle, ending in the Vanguard's death. From there, the False Prophet, an unbeliever with noble intentions, shook off the mantle of vengeance for the one of leadership, and thus it goes into the Book of the Pilot."

"Emirate, pardon my curtness, but a book of prophecies..."

"I know...you are still skeptical." With a slight nod of understanding, Xaaron glanced back at the keeper. "Your Grace, Book of the Herald, datatrack 42."

_ And lo, the Herald said to those around him, "Do not grieve, for soon I shall be one with the Matrix." And as he did, he passed the Matrix to the Vanguard. "Soon," the Herald said, "an Autobot shall rise, to light our darkest hour." For it was not the Vanguard, but the Chosen One who would face the Great Destroyer. "Till All Are One." And the Herald breathed his last. _

Elita One was frozen at the keeper's not-words, more to the effect that she envisioned that scene, far away on Earth almost two stellar cycles ago, being played out within her head, her deceased life mate surrounded by Autobots as he addressed them one last time. She found herself matching the titles in the scriptures to real life persons: her beloved Orion Pax, the Herald; rigid, by-the-book Ultra Magnus, quite possibly the Vanguard; Impetuous but good-hearted Hot Rod, the Chosen One.

Too many similarities, but honestly, should she believe that all that happened had been in fact ordained by Primus himself?

"You can see why we take the scriptures so seriously, Elita," the emirate stated heavily. "There has been too many parallels, too many literal translations, to be marked off as sheer coincidence. It's as though it is telling our history, past, present, and future, only made clear once the event has transpired."

It could be just vague translations, and allow whoever reads it to make their own conclusions and links, she thought to herself.

_ She does not believe, _ the keeper whispered.

"Forgive my doubts, your grace," she bowed her head. "My faith has dwindled. I am unsure of how to approach this."

The keeper nodded silently.

_ You are the Autobot leader, Elita One. The Chosen One may bear the Matrix, but he is unprepared for the task at hand. You have the experience and knowledge to lead the Autobots fully. The Herald had granted you a part of him so that you may continue to live; therefore, you now take the Herald's mantle. This is why you are able to hear my thoughts. _

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Primus is logical in his dreaming. If the prophecies are pointing true, Rodimus Prime and Ultra Magnus may die, and you would be the next Matrix Bearer."

"This False Prophet you speak of."

_ Correct. You admit your faith in Primus is waning, especially after the loss of the Herald. Your love for your people is unchallenged, and you would not lead them astray. You would defend your kindred as the Herald did, up to your last breath. _

"It will be you who will carry the Matrix next, Elita-One," Xaaron whispered, placing a caring hand on her shoulder.

Elita One knew no fear.

But a sudden feeling of overwhelming concern flooded her very core.

Especially as the emirate and the keeper spoke of Ultra Magnus's and Rodimus Prime's deaths as common occurrences, the thought of the well being over her fellow Autobots was stronger than caring what Xaaron and his companion spoke of just now.

But in conflicting reality, she then understood why they had drawn that conclusion.

With a nod of acceptance, she kept her chin to her chest.

"What will you have of me, then?" she questioned earnestly.

*

Iacon Spaceport

The Autobots of Paradron were a friendly if not curious lot, it seemed, devoted to the studies of science and art and the well-being of others. Already, they had made themselves fit right into the Cybertron way of life, offering to help out in any means possible.

Sandstorm was pleased that they weren't terribly homesick, at least not yet. As long as his people could remain busy, their attention on a task rather than thinking of the destruction of their planet, then they would do just fine.

Many lost friends and family in the Decepticon attack, however, and their thoughts were on them, true. But true to Paradron nature, they would honor the memories of those by working in their names. The denizens of Cybertron might notice a rash of statues and paintings dedicated to so and-so of Paradron, with lots of love and memories from so-and-so of Paradron; as long as it helped the healing process, Sandstorm wouldn't go around critiquing the really bad ones as he had done back home.

Sandstorm was a rarity on Paradron. Most of these peaceful Autobots were flighty, with no real direction, and would be happy behind a desk or up a tree, as long as they could make others happy. They lived off one another's happiness, in one big chain reaction would spread throughout the planet-

-until it would end up at Sandstorm.

For some odd, forsaken reason, Sandstorm was considered a throwback. An intelligent, passionate throwback, but a throwback, nonetheless. He liked to brawl, poke fun at others, sometimes let his temper fly. The only reason why he was Speaker Elect was because he was apprenticing to the elderly Speaker when he keeled over from a fuel-pump seizure right after the election. Poor bastard, Sandstorm actually liked him; never brushed him off, always listened to the younger Autobot's pleas for boosting up defenses, and even tried to get across some of the points Sandstorm had brought up to the Senate. However, the old man had something Sandstorm needed practice on: tact. So while Sandstorm led the hearings by the book, when it came to certain topics, the Senate pretty much ignored him.

Idiots, he found himself grumbling. Look what happened because of it.

Walking across the spaceport, deep in thought about what he was going to do next on this strange world of his ancestors, Sandstorm brushed up with destiny.

Which just so happened to be the loader's name, a short, solidly built green and black female Autobot checking off boxes to be shipped off planet.

"Excuse me," she slipped past him, checking the covers to the crates on the palette. Sandstorm made a noise not unlike clearing his throat, as though to speak, when a much larger Autobot, a red and white giant, almost twice as tall as him, greeted the loader with a friendly smile.

"I'm tellin' ya, Skyfire, I wouldn't go near Earth right now if you paid me," Destiny snarled, handing him the datapad with the order.

"I have friends there," the giant remarked softly, playing the datapad into a compartment in his side. "Besides, they will need these medical supplies. I can't abandon them in their time of need, Destiny."

"You're a braver 'bot than I, Sky," she chortled as he transformed into his jet mode, opening up his cargo doors to allow her to load the supplies into the hold. "I just hope they have enough medics on hand on Earth. I know Zodiac and First Aid are there, as well as a few Junkions...but is that enough?"

Sandstorm was then struck by an epiphany.

Actually, it was Destiny giving him a shove aside as she approached the palette he was leaning against.

"If you need a medic, I'm from Paradron," he offered. It was a long shot, and technically, he did have medical training that was required at the Academy he had attended, and in reality, he was desperate. "I could help you out if you need it."

Destiny blinked, staring up at Sandstorm with a somewhat exasperated glaze to her optics.

"To get clearance, you'll have to talk to Elita-One," she stated gruffly. "But that may take a solar cycle or more. Of course, I could just turn my back and pretend I never saw you sneaking on board Skyfire while his systems are occupied with navigational checks..."

"I owe you," he grinned, giving her a clap on the arm before jogging towards the transport. "So you're Skyfire?"

"I'm sorry, my systems are occupied with navigational checks..." Skyfire replied with an amused tone.

"I think I'm actually gonna like it here," Sandstorm laughed, scurrying up the docking ramp.

***

Autobot City

Oregon, North America

Sol III (Earth)

The black and chrome Autobot femme, arms crossed over her chest and her head bowed in thought, leaned against the console, her audio receptors listening in on the radio transmissions crackling in on the speakers.

"Eject's been gone for over a megacycle," she commented lightly, one index finger tapping on her upper arm.

"I know, and I don't like it," Blaster agreed. "Rewind, got anything for us?"

"Nothing," the small cassette Autobot shook his head. "I've got radio silence. I'm not even picking up their normal frequencies."

"Someone's jamming them," Artemis stated coolly. "And I think we both know who that would be."

"Now I definitely don't like this," the communications chief exclaimed, hitting his ejection button to allow another cassette, this one a red and gold one that transformed into a rhino-type animal. "Ramhorn, Rewind, your bros need an assist!"

Stamping the ground, Ramhorn waited however impatiently for Rewind to abandon his post and join him.

"C'mon! We got 'Cons to gore!" the rhino growled bestially as Rewind drew his pistol, scanning the vent opening before duck-walking into the shaft, his optics vigilant.

"Why would they infiltrate the base?" Blaster pondered aloud.

"Desperation," Artemis sighed, leaning over Rewind's station and studying the grainy ship on her screen. "They're on their last leg, Blaster. Their one last chance to prove that they're still the army they once were under Megatron's command."

"They're delusional," Blaster stated with a scoff.

"Galvatron's delusional," Artemis corrected. "The others are disillusioned to the point where nothing matters anymore. Not even living, for some. Their place in the universe is fading, and they fear that they will die without leaving a mark."

"You sound like a lady who had a lot of thought in that, Art."

"I was there before, Blaster," she remarked, her gaze locking onto a monitor showing telemetric readouts from geosynchronous satellites. "Different cause, same goal. I didn't want to be forgotten. We Cybertronians have a history of forgetting the past."

_ "Autobot City, this is the _ Shrike's Cry _ from Sirius II," _ a rough, nominally female voice barked.  _ "We have business of gravest urgency to discuss, concerning the attack on Seti VIII." _

Artemis's optics widened. She did not say it aloud, but her concern doubled at that very moment. To actually approach Earth as the  _ Shrike's Cry _ and not an alias was pretty much a red flag. The other warning was hearing Minerva's voice; the Terran woman had said so herself that she was going to lay low from Earth, and even if Roadrunner hadn't been destroyed, it would have been too recognizable even in robot mode. Still, she did not greet the addressor, not yet, at least.

"Blaster, refusing them may be a breach of contract," she warned urgently.

"I had no intention of refusing them," he nodded, flipping a switch. " _ Shrike's Cry,  _ this is Autobot City. You want clearance, you got it."

"Ask who's in charge of the mission," Artemis hinted. Blaster nodded and did as such.

_ "Name's Avalanche,"  _ Minerva retorted quickly, well-practiced.  _ "One of Darxtar's girls. Art knows me. Also with me is Raffael Ravenwing and Brin married to the Clan of the Shadow." _

_ Avalanche _ , Artemis repeated over in her head. Minerva must have had a new transtector built since they were last at Four Winds. It was a diplomatic mission, one that they expected some trouble if the old wolf had sent two of his best transtector fighters.

But why send his assassin, she then questioned herself. Brin was curt, dry-witted and had a temper that snapped to anger rather easily. Unless Shon, Drez's peacemaker, was unable to answer the call of action...but still, Trin would have been expected-

"Art, you're phasing out there," Blaster snapped his fingers near her face. She didn't respond, not vocally, save for placing two fingertips on the screen depicting the craft which attacked Seti VIII.

"We have a history of forgetting the past," she repeated quietly, more to herself than anyone else.

*

Eject was many things, but he was not stupid.

Twirling his pistol, he held it, breech up, by his head. Outnumbered, he wouldn't stand a chance. Even if Steeljaw could take on Ravage, it left him with Rumble and Frenzy. Not exactly friendly odds.

"What do you want?" he demanded, dejected, as Rumble ripped the pistol from his grasp. Steeljaw growled, his body low, ready to pounce; with a shake of his head, Eject warned him not to.

"As slagged up as it sounds, Reject," Frenzy scoffed, taking a step forward, "we need your help."

A slight growl, at first mistaken to be Steeljaw until Rumble realised it was coming from behind him, rolled through the shaft, just before the echo of a hammer cocking back brought the five cassettes to attention.

"Fact: Decepticons aren't exactly known for their honesty!" Rewind interjected, tracking the red bead on Rumble's helm. The blue Decepticon spun around, his own pistol on target.

"Make any move," Ramhorn snarled, scraping a hoof against the floor in preparation to charge, "and I'll gore you."

Frenzy narrowed his optics, his hand shaking somewhat, before putting his pistol up.

"It ain't worth it," he growled, glaring away from the four Autobots. "We surrender."

Ravage did not like this decision as he glanced up at his red and black brother, making a quizzical noise.

"On one condition," Rumble lowered his own weapon. "We talk to Arty."

Rewind met his twin's gaze before contemplating his next move. After a few clicks of silence, he finally spoke.

"Eject, take the point. Steeljaw, cover Ravage. Ramhorn, bring up the rear."

Eject reclaimed his weapon from Rumble, turning a reluctant shoulder to lead the group out of the shaft, his gaze occasionally cast over at the intruders. Heads bowed, Rumble and Frenzy tossed down their weapons as though tired of fighting and followed.

"Rewind to Blaster," the Autobot cassette hailed.

*

"I'm readin' ya! What's shakin'?" Blaster questioned, turning his attention to the ventilation grate. Artemis watched the sleek silver and blue Sirian Interceptor-class spacecraft touch down on the open area of the court, the little green and yellow Autobot Cosmos making gestures as to coach the landing.

_ "We found the intruders. Three guesses who." _

"Rumble and Frenzy," Artemis muttered dryly.

_ And Ravage,"  _ Eject added.  _ "Tried to go a little three on two with us...sorry about the time-out, coach." _

_ "They surrendered quietly,"  _ Rewind continued,  _ "On the condition they speak to Artemis." _

She could feel Blaster's gaze fall on her as she bowed her head, her expression, hidden from view, grew somewhat chilled.

"The Decepticons are falling apart," she whispered. "It's begun."

***

Washington State Wilderness

20 kilometers from the Canadian Border

The snow-covered meadow could have easily been used as footage for a tourism advertisement: the majestic Cascades rising on the horizon, Lake Chelan glinting in the afternoon sun, nary a cloud in the bright blue sky, evergreen forests giving warm colour to the otherwise cold landscape, the sounds of wildlife singing a joyous medley of nature.

And if Cyclonus really gave a damn, he might have appreciated the natural beauty untouched by civilization.

At that moment, however, his interest laid with the large crater almost a half-mile wide near Lake Chelan that was the site where the Decepticons had left Trypticon.

Being that of a cool, logical nature, Cyclonus circled the crater, finding indication in torn up snow and dirt that the city Transformer had indeed done just that, converting to his robot dinosaur mode and wandered off.

But something with low intelligence, high loyalty, and no spark to speak of doesn't simply wander off, the Decepticon second-in-command brooded. Therefore, one of three things had happened: one, Trypticon was malfunctioning, which was rather unlikely; two, Trypticon was hungry, and went to find something to eat, which was more believably; or three, Trypticon was convinced to leave by someone.

Instantly, Cyclonus narrowed the options to just one, especially when he remembered who exactly volunteered to stay with Trypticon and await Galvatron's order to attack Autobot City.

"Lord Galvatron, this is Cyclonus," he hailed. A large crackling through the communications device caused Cyclonus's brow to furrow, at least until Galvatron's voice rang out through the static.

_ "Yes, Cyclonus, what is it?"  _ Galvatron snapped impatiently.

Deep down, Cyclonus feared Galvatron, especially at that moment. Even with hundreds of kilometers between the two, he feared invoking his leader's wrath. Collecting his thoughts swiftly, Cyclonus informed Galvatron of his findings.

_ "WHAT?" _

"What will you have me do, my lord?" Cyclonus questioned simply, yet in rhetoric. He knew what Galvatron wanted.

_ "Hunt the traitor down and destroy him! Bring Trypticon back! I don't care how, just bring Trypticon back!" _

"With pleasure, my lord," Cyclonus agreed, igniting his jets to become airborne.

***

Downtown Portland, Oregon

It was a battle of epic proportions, had it not been considered passe by most American fans of Godzilla.

Each time one of Superion's or Devastator's punches landed on their intended targets, the very air shook with power.

Galvatron, with his remaining troop of Decepticons, converged and moved forward on the awaiting Autobots, their weapons ready for a heavy firefight.

In retrospect, Eject would call it a hellacious bout of good versus evil.

Devastator was taking a heavy toll on the Aerialbot gestalt, Superion now taking the defensive, shielding his face.

It was about then when Galvatron launched his attack on the prepared Autobots, with the Combaticons leading the charge.

From above, Soundwave observed the battle with ruby red optics. The tinge of green on the edge, green that had no plausible way of glowing, was the only indication that there was more to Soundwave than just himself.

Cavalier had fallen to the back of the pack, her head once again poised as though listening into someone's conversation, her railgun and optics ever alert. Bumblebee and Tracks both stuck to her flank as the heavy hitters rushed forward to meet the Decepticons head on.

"Picking up anything?" the shorter Autobot demanded to the femme. She shook her head, her blue optics narrowed.

"Too much static," she grumbled. "I'm getting some snippets, but not enough to make sense. Soundwave may be jamming, and if that's the case, I'm not going to crack any freqs without some help-hello!"

"I think I liked the sound of that epiphany," the blue Autobot commented brightly. "What's the story, soul sister?"

"Galvatron's pissed," Cavalier stated, pressing one hand to her audio receptor. "I think someone took off with their ride."

"Good news for us," Bumblebee retorted, "but if that's the case, Trypticon's running rampant Primus knows where."

"Hold on...Terran communications are easier to hack into-slot! Canadian military sighted Tryps heading north into British Columbia!"

"Damn, girlfriend, that was quick," Tracks remarked as Bumblebee bolted forward through the ranks, taking hold of Kup's arm. Repeating Cavalier's findings to the veteran, Bumblebee received Kup's acknowledgement before Kup relayed the information to Ultra Magnus. Rodimus gave a wiry however grim grin at this news.

"Protectobots, merge and attack!" he ordered.

"Blaster, we need a recon into British Columbia, stat!" Ultra Magnus radioed sternly. "Trypticon has gone rogue!"

The city commander's powerful voice reached the audio receptors of those Decepticons in earshot as well as fellow Autobots.

Onslaught, managing to keep Grimlock at bay with almost sheer determination, now faced a dilemma. Galvatron's militia was underpowered, on enemy territory. This was a desperation move, true, but at least with Trypticon, they had a chance. Now, without the powerful city Transformer, the scenario turned grim indeed.

However, a true Decepticon never surrendered.

"Combaticons!" he barked; in his mind, he had every right to override the mad leader's orders. "Merge into Bruticus!"

Ultra Magnus and Kup both knew only one thing worse than facing a powerful enemy army:

A desperate, disorganized militia.

Sometimes, these militias would fall apart from within, as it was hoped it would. However, sometimes, just sometimes, within desperation, the soldiers may find brotherhood in the sole purpose to survive.

With Onslaught's single order to his own men, the other Decepticons took his lead. As both the Combaticons and the Protectobots merged to form their respective gestalts, both colliding into a full blown fist fight, the remaining Decepticon troops surged forward as though to charge the Autobots.

**_"HALT!"_ **

The single order, echoing through the otherwise empty streets of the evacuated district, rang out like a single blast of a heavenly trumpet. The very weight of the word, as though amplified by the vast cosmos of space and time, forced every one of the combatants to freeze in place, overwhelmed by the shear power.

As though one, Autobot and Decepticon alike lifted their gazes to stare up at he who addressed them.

Soundwave, hovering a good fifty meters above the melee, glared down in sheer contempt of the entire situation. A slight green glow emitted from his optics, shrouding him in the same light.

A massive weight seemed to settle upon the warring Transformers, a presence of intimidation and dread. Rodimus Prime felt something within his spark flare up as though raising shields around him; Galvatron stumbled back, his red optics and his mouth wide in fear before contorting angrily.

"You...!" he shrieked, leveling his plasma cannon to his spymaster and, before any of his subordinates could stop him, let loose a short volley. The potent energy attack struck the greenish glow hard, but dispersed with a loud crackle, leaving Soundwave unfazed.

A low chuckle echoed through the still air.

**_"Pathetic,"_ ** Soundwave rumbled, his voice no longer the electronic reverb of norm but a deep, resonating baritone. Holding out his hand, the dark blue Decepticon clenched his fist; at the same moment, Galvatron screamed out in agony, dropping to his knees.  **_"Weak. Spoiled, squabbling children, unworthy of their place in the universe. Is this what Primus dreams of? His children, warring with one another over petty differences, while the universe around them degrades towards entropy?"_ **

"Unicron," Kup whispered quietly. Of the Autobots, only Ultra Magnus remained stoic, in check, his optics narrowed.

**_"You have failed,"_ ** Unicron spoke through Soundwave, regarding each Transformer individually.  **_"You chose to continue your battles while the universe conforms to order; without a body, Chaos cannot compensate for this. This was the nature of the virus I had sent you; because you failed to see its direness, you do not deserve to find the answers that you sought which lie encoded in its secret. You are unworthy; you deserve to be eradicated from existence."_ **

"This can't be good," Rodimus grumbled, finding a shaking Cavalier clutching his arm, her knees bent as though fighting to stand. In knowing her all his life, he had never known her to express fear before; in friendship he honoured, he took firm hold of her hand, a silent reassurance that nothing was going to happen to them. Gathering strength from the wisdom of the ancients, he then addressed Unicron aloud.

"Why would you help us against the Quintessons?" he demanded, unshaken.

**_"Foolish boy...do you truly believe the Quintessons are your only threat?"_ ** Unicron chortled cruelly.  **_"Your creators are only a small taste of what is to come. As for why I would...ahem...help you...with sheer chaos comes utter pandemonium, but with pure order comes entropy."_ **

"I don't understand...what does that have to do with-"

**_"Silence! You have already proven yourselves unworthy of the answers. The moment is lost to both your petty factions. Galvatron, my puppet, address me as your lord!"_ **

Galvatron stood, shaken, his ruby optics flickering painfully.

"Y-yes, my lord," he stuttered.

**_"You have outlived your usefulness to me. I free you of my bidding, but remember who granted you your life in return. I recommend you all to regroup and rethink your strategies; you have not a lot of time before your eminent destruction."_ **

His air intakes taking loud breaths, Galvatron glared up at his possessed spymaster before pointing an accusing finger at him.

"Decepticons, destroy!" he ordered swiftly.

Hesitance rolled over the ranks, then a brave Ramjet stepped forward, clearing his throat nervously.

"My lord, but Soundwave-"

Galvatron wasted little time firing point blank on the unfortunate Seeker. As the red and black Seeker fell lifeless to the ground, his head and chest melted beyond recognition, Galvatron swung his arm around to Soundwave, releasing another barrage of plasma fire. Fearing for their lives, the other Decepticons followed suit.

Once more, the Great Destroyer laughed, casting a hand towards the stunned melee. Four tendrils snapped out, striking each gestalt, Autobot and Decepticon alike, square in their chests, causing them to fall back and break apart in a jumble of very confused Transformers. Withdrawing that hand, Unicron threw the other out, fingers spread and palm out, towards the dissentient aggressor, sending a wave of green energy back onto Galvatron. Unicron's former champion cried out again, falling to his knees, then face forward onto the tarmac, unconscious.

**_"Scourge,"_ ** the dead god addressed the Minion commander,  **_"take what remains of these troops and retreat. You have no hope of winning this battle."_ **

"Of course, my lord," Scourge nodded dumbly, hoisting Galvatron over his shoulder.

Without taking his optics off the Decepticons, Unicron then addressed the Autobots-more specifically, their leader.

**_"You brought this onto yourself, Chosen One,"_ ** the god chided simply, as though scolding for a traffic violation.  **_"By destroying me, you destroyed the one thing that stood in the way of entropy of the universe."_ **

With that, the glow faded from around the spymaster, his optics dimming completely before he plummeted to the ground, slamming hard into the pavement by Slag's and Sludge's feet.

"That must hurt," Slag observed quietly as he and his fellow Dinobot picked up the unmoving Soundwave.

Scourge glared at Ultra Magnus before turning back to his people.

"Fall back," he growled, dejected. His mood was contagious as the Decepticons lifted off as one unit, flying northwest.

"Kind of an empty victory," Kup sighed, his gun pointed downward as he looked down at Ramjet's remains with a sad shake. "Poor bastard. Almost feel sorry for him."

The three Autobots sent on aerial recon touched down, regrouping with the others. As the Protectobots collected their thoughts, they resumed their rescue operations, accompanied by Red Alert, Jazz, and Tracks, silent amongst themselves. Slowly, the others found their own duties to attend to before they were to head back to Autobot City.

The slow, almost surreal scenario swirled around the young Autobot leader as he observed his team work as though they were part of a panoramic show and he was an outsider. Within, confusion wrapped his mind as he brooded Unicron's parting words. Shaking them off after a cycle, he rejoined the crew in clean-up.

*

John L.B. Soule had once said, "Go west, young man, go west."

Octane did not know the famous quote, nor did he really care. But the principle of the saying placed a feeling of purpose in the violet and silver triplechanger.

His fortune was out west, and by Primus, he was going to take it.

It was only luck that Galvatron had asked for a volunteer to stay with Trypticon; it was that same luck that filled the other Decepticons with that needful battlelust to defeat those Autobots who thwarted them countless times before.

Octane had no interest in bloodying his fists in the conflicts. Sure, he liked senseless violence, but he had more interest destroying inanimate objects than pesky Autobots.

If he were to be summed up in a word, it would be "bully." In two words, "perverted bully." In three, "suave, perverted bully." In four...well, one would get the idea.

Truth to be told, he preferred to torment others in other ways. Too direct was violence; it was more fun to needle and taunt, make one beg for mercy without laying a finger on them. Now that was fun.

It was an art form, really, he pondered as he perched on Trypticon's shoulder, his sight locked on the Canadian frontier.

Well, not really frontier. They had just passed Kelowna without incident -well, as much incident as a giant robot dinosaur stomping through the suburbs could be-and ventured away from Highway 97, across Okaganan Lake, heading northwest.

He had a plan, all right. Oil made the best energon Earthside, and there was plenty of black gold in there-them Yukon hills to hole him up until Galvatron could forget he ever existed.

Of course, stealing Trypticon wasn't exactly a forgettable act.

Especially seeing the lone blue jet gunning towards them at a furious speed.

"And here comes the rain on my parade," Octane commented lightly as Cyclonus transformed into his robot mode, hovering in front of the large dinosaur. Trypticon halted, staring dumbly at the smaller Transformer that stood in his path.

"What do you think you're doing?" the Decepticon second-in-command shouted angrily to the violet and silver flier on Trypticon's shoulder.

"Trippy's running at 10% efficiency," Octane retorted smoothly, well timed, as though explaining a simple concept to a child. "If we were to attack Autobot City in his current state, he wouldn't have enough power to finish the job, let alone get us back to Charr."

_ "TRYPTICON HUNGRY!" _ The dinosaur bellowed as to agree with Octane.

"Since Lord Galvatron obviously had the Autobots at bay, I figured we would have enough time for a light snack. Anyway, Trippy wanted to go for a walkies, didn't you, big guy?"

_ ""TRYPTICON HUNGRY!" _

Had it been Galvatron who confronted Octane, perhaps his smoothly executed lie would have eeked through with a disgruntled nod with a threat involving waving his cannon around a lot and a stern not-to-do-it again speech.

However, this was Cyclonus. Loyal and intelligent. Dangerous combination.

"Do you take me for an idiot?" Cyclonus snarled, his expression razor sharp as his hand clenched the butt of his pistol.

"Oh, course not!" Holding his hands up in defense, Octane shook his head. "I was only thinking for the good of the Decepticon cause-"

"Then you should have suggested your 'plan' to Galvatron first."

With a hefty sigh, Octane dropped his hands to his side and his head to his chest.

"You're right, I should have talked it out. But you know how it is about trying to gain favour and stuff. I just wanted to do something for the good of  _ Trypicon attack _ !"

Cyclonus yanked his pistol from its holster and climbed upward as Trypticon's head-mounted vulcan cannons cycled on, peppering the air around Cyclonus with short bursts of heat.

Octane couldn't take any more chances on smooth-talking. Cyclonus was much too dangerous to waste any more breath on. Besides, all Trypticon knew was that Cyclonus was getting in the way between him and an all you-can-eat buffet, of course the poor city was bound to get cranky.

"Traitor! Galvatron will have your head for this!" Cyclonus bellowed. "Trypticon! Stand down! That is an order!"

At this juncture, it would be prudent to mention that one of Octane's rare characteristics would be friendship. He befriended people easily, rare indeed for a Decepticon, true. And one he would believe he had befriended in the short time they had together was in fact the simple artificial intelligence of Trypticon. Under normal circumstances, the city would probably end up following Octane like a loyal puppy to the ends of the universe, all because Octane was nice to him.

But, as it was bound to happen, in the Decepticon leader's rare foresight, there were overrides.

As Trypticon obeyed Cyclonus's order, falling back onto his haunches with a dejected growl, his cannons quiet, Octane realised he was in deep slag.

So much for his master plan.

Standing rigid, his fists to his side, Octane grinned sheepishly.

"I suppose you'll want an explanation," he commented lightly.

"No, I just want you to die," Cyclonus snarled, leveling his weapon, tracing the bead between the tall Decepticon's optics.

"What about what I want?" Octane whined before falling back, over Trypticon's shoulder. Obscured temporarily from Cyclonus's view, the triplechanger transformed into his jet mode, flying low and fast towards the highway. Touching down, he folded within himself, converting fluidly into his tractor trailer form as he entered a heavily wooded stretch of the road, maintaining a furious if not reckless speed.

Escaping, he realised, was going to be tricky.

In the past, he could have always counted on his friends to help him out. But since then, his good terms had dwindled; first Skywarp, then Thundercracker, and now it was only him. Besides getting to push around the smaller Decepticons and rough up Autobots, what was the point? Decepticons were no fun anymore, not when they were severely underpowered.

Setting his mind, he doubled back to Kelowna. There were places in the city where he could blend in better. Plenty of decoys. Once there, he could casually enter the airport, return to jet mode, and take off as though any other commercial flight, and then...

...And then...

Then what?

A rare bolt of clear thinking logic struck him. A long shot, but hey, it worked for Blitzwing.

***

Cygnus VII

Thundercracker leaned forward in his chair, hands clasped and forehead rested on them, elbows on his knees. What Bludgeon had spoken of was almost too much to comprehend.

"What can we do to stop them?" he then questioned, his voice barely audible.

Bludgeon snorted. "You sound like an Autobot."

This animated the blue and white Seeker as he stood forcibly, the chair falling back.

"The Autobots are bureaucratic, hypocritical and weak," he retorted angrily, meeting the painful stare of the Pretender. The death-head Decepticon chortled, amused.

"Your words are your own," Bludgeon commented lightly. "Megatron did not 'convince' you of his way, did he?"

The young Decepticon's optics dimmed quickly, swiftly catching the other's drift.

"If you mean robosmashed, no, he did not." Thundercracker stood down from his defense, slowly, apprehensive. "I joined the Decepticons on my own free will."

"And you remained amongst Megatron's ranks, even after you learned that it wasn't emancipation Megatron wanted, but conquest."

"Megatron gave me purpose."

Bludgeon's pinpoint red optics bore deep into Thundercracker's own, as though scrying for more, deeper answers, for nearly two cycles.

"Darxtar, old friend," he finally broke his silence, "I think Thunderwing will be pleased to learn of Galvatron's waning power, where even those most loyal to him are abandoning him."

"I served Megatron because I feared him," Thundercracker corrected. "I fled from Galvatron for the same reason."

"Why would you wish to stop your forefathers, those who laid the foundation for the Decepticon Empire?" Bludgeon questioned earnestly.

Thundercracker grew silent once more.

"I know why," the old Decepticon whispered, stepping even closer to the Seeker. "Because they threaten your existence. You have nothing else to live for save your own existence."

"Bludgeon, enough," Darxtar ventured towards the two. "The boy has had enough for today. We got what we came for; I trust what you say is true."

"Information comes with a price, old friend," Bludgeon reminded. "I'm sure you and your protégé could use more ammunition for your rifles, at informant's cost, of course."

Darxtar growled intangibly as he stormed to the back room; the sounds of rummaging echoed in the background as Bludgeon regarded Thundercracker once more.

"You are loyal, yet selfish," he observed. "You seek truth and knowledge, as so long as it doesn't threaten you at a personal level. I see a turmoil within your spark; you are hard to humble in what you're good at, but quick to back down to challenge. Interesting, you make lasting friendships, but I can see you've lost many of those connections in the recent past. You've never been alone before, have you? Content with living in the shadow of your brother, it seems, where it was safe."

Thundercracker's jaw clenched as he fought the uneasy feeling rising from his spark.

"My lord Thunderwing would have use for you if you didn't frighten so easily, young one," the Pretender concluded passively as he finally broke his unnerving glare, turning to face Darxtar, exiting the back room with an armload of ammunition boxes. "Now, old friend, to business..."

***

Cybertron orbit

_ "I knew you would come eventually." _

Starscream's ghost hovered before the brain center of the dead god, many of the monitors blacked out and broken; a few, however, flickered on, granting brief glances at random scenes on Cybertron, Earth, and other planets throughout the galaxy.

"I do not appreciate being ignored," Starscream retorted curtly.

_ "I understand that. And I have a proposition for you that will assure that you will no longer be ignored by anyone." _

"I'm listening."

_ "I have forsaken my former champion. Galvatron has proven too chaotic, too unbalanced, too incompetent. He is undeserving of impending godhood." _

"Too chaotic and unbalanced?" Starscream chortled, his voice mocking. "But mighty lord Unicron, you are the God of Chaos, of Destruction! Surely that was your intended goal."

_ "Your observation amuses me, Starscream. However, his incompetence and insanity is why I toss him aside. I am in need of someone of intelligence and ambition, Starscream. I need one of free will, with goals that coincide with my own. I require a harbinger of a new cosmic reign. I know of your history of treachery and deceit, Starscream. And perhaps you would attempt to betray me In the future; but I am willing to take that chance for you to perform three simple tasks for me." _

"And what will I get out of this?" the spectre demanded. "I've seen what had become of Megatron once you changed him. I will not succumb to that."

_ "And you wouldn't. Your will is stronger than Megatron's; you would be able to handle the power I have to grant you. I assure you, you shall be and always will be Starscream, the Idle Star of Cybertron. Above all, of course, I will grant you a new body. _ "

"What are the tasks?" Starscream questioned, still apprehensive.

_ "The first task is to retrieve the optics of Metroplex, so that I may see." _

"Metroplex's optics? Why?" Starscream scoffed. "Wouldn't you think they might be a tad small for someone-"

_ "Do not question my motives, Starscream. Retrieve Metroplex's optics for me, and then we shall discuss the other tasks." _

"As you wish, Lord Unicron," the deceased air commander grumbled sardonically as he willed himself away from the moon.

***

Autobot City

Earth

Ravage in fact looked like a beaten kitten, laying with his head between his paws, his ruby optics dejected. On either side of him, Rumble and Frenzy sat haphazardly, their expressions mirroring their felinoid brother's. Guns, missiles, and piledrivers were heaped before them in terms of surrender.

"It's suicide following that nutcase," Rumble snarled. "It ain't even worth fighting for our lives, you know? Slot, we're more likely to get killed by Galvatron for 'insubordination-'" with this, he emphasized by making a sardonic quotation gesture, "-than we are fighting you pansies."

"Bottom line is that we're a joke," Frenzy muttered. "Never surrender, only when the cause is right, y'dig?"

"Yeah, I dig," Blaster gave a stern nod, his arms crossed over his chest. "So why come here?"

"Here, they're protected from Galvatron," Artemis exclaimed, her voice neutral. "Anywhere else, he would hunt them without quarter. Here, he would meet resistance."

Both Decepticon cassettes nodded together.

"After what happened to Thundercracker and Astrotrain, we're paranoid, Arty," Rumble continued, his hand absently rubbing the back of Ravage's neck. The felinoid Decepticon mewed, resting his head on his brother's leg.

"What happened to Thundercracker?" This brought emotion to the ex-mercenary, her ice blue optics widening in concern.

"Swindle fingered them in on the desertion scheme," Frenzy exclaimed.

"You know more than you're letting on, Art," Blaster warned.

She didn't deny it; instead, she nodded.

"I know quite a bit of what's going on," she retorted casually. "What happened to them?"

"I overheard Swindle talking to Galvatron and warned them before Galvatron could take action," Rumble stated. "Hell, they might be useful later, you know? I know some Sweeps tagged Astrotrain, but I would think they headed to either Reicere or Sirius II. Whether they made it or not, we don't know."

"So what are you going to do with us?" Frenzy questioned Blaster.

"We're prisoners of war, bro," Rumble stated bluntly, casting a cold optic to the communications chief. "What do you think they do?"

"Eject, Rewind, escort our new buddies to the holding cells," Blaster ordered after a moment's contemplation. "We'll see what the head honchos want to do with them-"

_ "Autobot City, this is Sunstreaker! Decepticons are converging on Trypticon's position twenty miles north of Okaganan Lake in British Columbia!" _

"What the hell are they doing way out there?" Rumble demanded.

"Yeah, they were supposed to be in the Cascades," Frenzy observed. Together they seemed to have struck an epiphany.

"Octane," they exclaimed in unison.

"That perverted bastard's still alive?" Artemis questioned.

"Not for much longer if he did what I think he did," Rumble chortled. "Mind filling us in with the newsflash?" Blaster inquired.

"Octane's low man on the totem pole," Artemis explained. "He's a bully who either does things big or doesn't do anything at all. At this point, he has nothing to lose, so it seems he took a chance in breaking away from Galvatron's hold."

"Sunstreaker, my man, you and your bro come back home. I think we've done all we can right now," Blaster relayed to the car brothers. "We can send Powerglide to keep an eye in the sky on them when the gang gets back." Bending on one knee, Blaster regarded the three enemy spy cassettes. "You boys are a pain in the subwoofer, but we'll keep you outta Galvatron's radar until we can figure out what to do with you."

"Yeah, well don't be expecting us to kissin’ your feet or nothin'," Frenzy growled, crossing his arms over his chest defiantly.

"You're welcome," Blaster snorted, nodding his head towards the door. "Take 'em down to lockup, boys."

"Do anything funny and I'll gore ya," Ramhorn warned them sternly as the Autobot cassettes ushered their Decepticon counterparts out of the communications tower.

"We really gotta talk about your choice in friends, Art," Blaster chortled sardonically.

"You're not the first to make mention of that," Artemis retorted dryly as she exited the tower.

*

One thing was for certain: Ultra Magnus was perplexed in the situation at hand.

For starters, nothing seemed to make sense. The Decepticons retreated, leaving one of Galvatron's favourites behind in Autobot custody. This would warrant retaliation in the near future, that much was obvious. Unless Galvatron had fully snapped, and now saw Soundwave as an acceptable loss as he waged war on all of creation.

However, the thought that Unicron still functioned, even in death, still bothered the city commander. Ultra Magnus was not one to believe in gods, and the rationale that Unicron was in fact a god was illogical, and therefore could not be true. But god or not, Unicron was a powerful force to reckon with, not one to be taken lightly.

The Autobots returned to the industrial city, the weight of an empty if confusing victory hanging over their heads. Soundwave, still unconscious and now bound by energy binds, laid on Ultra Magnus's trailer, vacant optics staring at the sky. Ramjet's remains were carried within First Aid's ambulance mode. It was hopeless to attempt to revive him; First Aid himself had tried to save the unfortunate Seeker, even when he himself had pronounced Ramjet dead. There just wasn't any way for anyone to survive that type of point blank attack.

The first thing Rodimus noticed was the sleek Sirian Interceptor class starship in the courtyard. Cosmos, the stout green and yellow Autobot, was striking up conversation with a taller red and silver robot; upon first glance, it was difficult to really tell if it was male or femme, until she stood at a hipshot that only femmes could really pull off. Two others, a Terran man and a Sirian woman, seemed to be busy with lockdown of the blue and silver ship. In dark blue script writ in three languages, the name of the ship,  _ Shrike's Cry,  _ was blazoned on the wing and fuselage. Underneath, another line of print, preceded by a logo of a compass rose, read "Four Winds, Inc."

"Kup, I think this may be in your jurisdiction," the young leader beckoned as he and the old veteran transformed in unison. Kup sighed, bowing his head.

"Of all the transmission-grinding, belt-snapping, piston-blowing..." Trailing off his line of curses, the blue and grey Autobot inhaled sharply and marched over to the three newcomers.

"What should we do with Ramjet?" First Aid, now in his robot mode, the Seeker remains draped in his arms, questioned from behind Rodimus. The red and yellow Autobot turned to face the medic before looking down at the unfortunate Decepticon.

"I don't know, First Aid," Rodimus whispered, his expression barely keeping check of his horror at Galvatron's handiwork. "What can we do?"

He was saddened more for First Aid than Ramjet; pity for the Seeker, yes, but First Aid was known for his regard for all life, including enemies.

Watching First Aid turn to enter the city, looking dumbly at the dead Transformer in his arms, Rodimus could not help but to brood over the future. If the Decepticons were truly falling apart at the seams, as shown today during their battle, then it wouldn't be long until what remained of Megatron's once-invincible army to crumble.

And this was supposed to be a good thing. These little skirmishes would end, and the Autobots would be at peace once again.

This, Rodimus had a hard time convincing himself to be fact.

Especially when Kup and the Four Winds Autobot approached him, both expressing deep concern in their optics, Kup especially.

"Things just got worse, didn't they?" the leader questioned dryly.

"You could say that, lad," Kup nodded, somewhat shaken. "Better call the heads into the War Room."

*

This was not good.

Once in her quarters, Artemis slumped in her one chair and glared angrily at the wall.

Everything was falling apart. The Decepticons as a whole refused to revolt against Galvatron out of pure fear. Those brave enough were chased off or worse. No telling what happened to either Thundercracker or Octane at this point; both could have been hunted down and destroyed by now.

She was running out of ideas and, above all, time.

Leaning forward, she propped her elbows on her knees and dimmed her optics completely.

"I could use a stroke of inspiration here," she whispered in rhetoric, to no one in particular.

"I've got an idea," Starscream hissed next to her audio receptor. With a half-hearted gesture, she swatted at his voice.

"Go away, flyboy," she snarled, "I'm not in the mood."

"My, someone's cranky," he chortled as a cold breeze caressed her cheek. "I require your assistance, Arty."

She stood, facing the door, her optics shadowed by her helm. "No."

It was easy to say, really. Simply turn away and leave.

At least until she froze, something gripping her very spark in a tight hold. The painful chill flooded her fuel lines as she attempted to fight away the grasp.

"You are not in a position to say no, Artemis," he chided, smooth yet angered. "And I no longer am in the mood for your games. If you won't help me willingly..."

"Let me go," she snarled, only to find the phantom fingers clenching tighter.

"Not this time," he hissed, chuckling. "Not this time."

A sensation of being pulled back and down-yet she stood perfectly still -overwhelmed her, a choking presence smothering her...vision faded, pulled back to pinpoints...she was still aware...however...as though not quite awake, but not fully asleep.

She tried to yell at Starscream, but no sound came from her vocal processor.

"As I said, if you won't help me willingly," Starscream trailed, his voice very much real. "Don't worry, Arty, this shouldn't take too long."

She then fully realised what exactly had happened at that point.

Starscream had taken control of her shell.

_ You bastard _ , she growled weakly as his spark embraced hers in a euphoric however perverse warmth, hushing her internal protests.  _ You slotting bastard. _

"Yes, yes, I know," he agreed in her voice, slipping out of the quarters quietly.


	3. Reflections Dance The Ghosts In Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Starscream coerces Skyfire into his scheme to reclaim a physical shell; meanwhile, Grimlock wants to help the other Autobots, and he could, but the brain key is just out of reach, but Swoop is hesitant to tell the truth to why the Dinobot leader cannot remember.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, folks, I've been editing these old fics to check the tone (comparing language that was considered acceptable in the early Naughts but could be seen as problemactic now), but if I missed something, especially in this particular chapter, please let me know and I'll fix it. 
> 
> My time in the Gargoyles fandom does leak through in this one, and while I would have no problem separating those parts from the story as a whole, it's still integrated into this arc. I did drop the "magical" link after this particular fic, but if a reader is still interested in where I was going with those parts, I'm more than happy to reveal that. (I will reveal that in this particular arc, whenever they speak about Mitochondria Eve, it's actually Oona from Beast Wars. I never got far enough to get to that reveal, but I digress.)
> 
> Thank you so much for sticking with me as I repost these pieces from the vaults, and I'll be posting new content eventually. :)

**Chapter 3: Reflections Dance the Ghost With Me**

Issue #3: Reflections Dance the Ghost with Me

Kup, upon meeting the Autobot truck in red and silver, knew right there that she had to have been one of Darxtar's girls.

The Decepticon bartender liked employing femmes, that was for certain. The strikingly beautiful ones, he kept as serving girls for the bar, to entertain and entice customers. The others, he trained as bouncers. At least, that's how it was on the surface. In retrospect, Kup realised that Darxtar never hired males.

These girls had a walk to them; confident, casual, but ready to fight if they needed to, fluidly able to shift into a sharp kick without so much as a warning to gain the upper hand in a potential fight. The pretty ones danced battle; Kup had witnessed, long ago, Darxtar's now-deceased mate Serendipity in a sparring match with the Polyhexian transformer, how his quick brawling methods seemed strangely sluggish in comparison.

However, these girls rarely fought. If there was trouble, they normally dealt with it with more subtle means, whether drugs, pressure points, seduction; in other words, using intellect rather than physical force.

It was the tough gals, the ones who normally didn't fit into the stereotype of beautiful, that one really had to watch. Sure, for the most part, they looked femme, and they had their own prettiness like all femmes, but these you didn't want to cross in a fist fight. These girls had that confident, casual, ready stance as well, but on top of it all, their postures were an invitation, a dare, dangerously close to intimidation. If you weren't causing trouble, it was an assured protection. If you were, then it was a discouraging sight.

Either way, this femme from Four Winds had that stance, open, with her hands resting on almost non-existent hips, as she regarded the older Autobot.

"You're Kup, eh?" she greeted gruffly. "Name's Avalanche. Colony Autobot, from Theta IV. Darxtar told us to go to you, that you'd know what we're talking about."

"What's going on, Avalanche?" he questioned after nodding an affirmation.

"I'll get to the point: ever heard of Liege Maximo?"

He had to hand it to the femme, she was indeed blunt. The query caught him off-guard. She did not wait for an answer; apparently, his stunned silence was more than enough for her.

"Seti VIII, locally named Noveau Alaska, was attacked this decacycle," she revealed, as they approached Rodimus Prime. "Petit-Juneau, Noveau Alaska's main colony, was decimated, with few survivors. The images captured by the oil tanker  _ Von's Blade _ reveal one ship of what seems to be Cybertronian origin with a stylised Decepticon insignia. Darxtar made mention to Liege Maximo."

"I had hoped," Kup took a deep breath and exhaled, "that he had died in banishment."

"That's exactly what Darxtar said," Avalanche nodded, as though expecting his answer.

"I take it things just got worse," Rodimus questioned when he noticed the two joining his company.

"You could say that, lad," the veteran groaned, "better call the heads to the War Room. I'll tell you everything from there."

*

Raffael Ravenwing had a habit of forgetting why he left Earth in the first place.

Mixed blood Native American with Western European thrown in the lineage somewhere, Raff's parents had left their respective communities for the promise of better opportunities, meeting each other at the University of Arizona in Phoenix during the late sixties. Raff was born in the summer of 1969 and was raised like a typical white kid of hippies. Sure, he had the copper complexion of his Native American heritage. His mother always believed her Spanish grandmother had magic powers, and would tell Raff stories of her that he believed were just that: stories.

He was reluctant even at an early age to tell either his parents of the lines he saw. "Lines" were a loose term, really; these tendrils of colour were closer to threads and ribbons, not quite tangible, woven around people, similar to auras, but more binding. Auras were more freedom, more spiritual, happy things. These threads were different. These bound people in place.

One day in the mid-eighties, around his fifteenth birthday, he noticed one thread that bound his parents together, a pink one, turn black, the ends severed. A week passed, and a police officer came to his door to deliver the news that his parents' 1978 Beetle convertible had been hit head on by a truck driver who had fallen asleep at the wheel.

The shock caused the ribbons to intensify in colour, become more tangible. Raff remembers being taken to his mother's parents' reservation to live with people he did not know, his eyes clamped shut so that he did not see the black threads any more.

In 1987, a few months after he turned 18, a stocky woman of Scottish descent visited him.

He found her fascinating, for the one reason that, unlike most people, she only had one silver thread loosely wrapped like jewelry around her wrists, neck, and chest. She introduced herself as Minerva Ryder, and offered him training, to control the visions. He learned that these threads he saw were much the same lines in palmistry-life lines, heart lines, head lines, love lines, power lines, endless energies that bound the life force of the planet. After a few years of training, she gave him a choice: live on Earth and use his abilities to benefit mankind, or come with her, where his ability would be nullified, since it was rooted on Earth, and work for her.

He chose to go with her. The black threads still frightened him, knowing when someone was going to die.

After nearly twenty years on Sirius II, Raff Ravenwing was once again introduced to the threads.

As much as he wished to interrupt Minerva-erm, Avalanche-to ask about the new phenomenon he was experiencing, he couldn't interrupt her work. She was, after all, his boss.

However, Brin, with her sharpened senses, twitched her black nose expertly.

"What's your problem, Ravenwing?" she questioned curtly.

"Earth's threads," he exclaimed, however lowly, "they're tangling up the Cybertronians."

The black lupine's brow wrinkled in confusion.

"Is this some of that Terran mystic crap, isn't it?" she commented roughly.

"Oh, yeah," the human nodded. "But I didn't think it would affect off-worlders."

"Well, is it working on me?" She questioned, holding her arms out at her sides as though showing off her leather halter top barely keeping her breasts at bay. He gave her a once-over glance and nodded quickly.

"You've got a pink thread fading off upward-that's your link with Drez. There's others too, but I need to get some info from Minnie to really decipher it."

"So are you saying Terra's able to read visitors as well?" Brin asked.

"Seems to be," Raff nodded again. "Though I wonder if there's something that goes deeper than just that."

"Keep it for Ryder," Brin grumbled, leaning against the large tire of the  _ Shrike's Cry _ 's landing gear. "I wouldn't know mysticism from technology."

"Speaking of which," the tall human crossed his arms over his chest and sighed forcibly. "I'm not looking forward to meeting up with the Sidhe. I don't know why Minnie's dragging me into this."

"Probably because you're the only human not wanted by them?" Brin suggested. "After all, they obviously want the twerp."

"At least they're not sending any more representatives for unannounced visits. At least, I hope they-"

Raff's abrupt trail-off caused the assassin guild mistress to cast a quizzical gaze at the human, just before she noticed what Raff was in fact looking at.

Or rather, who, as the gloss black Autobot femme strode across the courtyard with a purposeful step.

"Odd," Brin mused. "You'd think Artemis would stop and say hi, unless she's got something going on-yo, Ravenwing, what's up?"

"Something's...weird." Narrowing his blue eyes, Raff took a few steps away from the ship, his gaze locked on the backside of the femme. "I've...I've never seen something like this before."

"What?"

"A red ribbon. Not a thread, but a ribbon, like she's bound or something."

"All right, Ravenwing, you lost me."

Something about his sight perplexed and bothered him, as a tug at his heart warned him that something was amiss.

"Brin, I'm going to catch up with her," Raff stated bluntly, breaking into a jog.

"Oh, sure, leave a helpless woman to fend for herself," she growled sardonically, crossing her arms over her chest tightly, causing her visible cleavage to deepen. "Some gentleman you are."

*

Blaster stood, unmoving, at the front of the War Room, the grainy video, captured by the  _ Von's Blade  _ of the monstrous ship moving slowly away from Seti VIII, playing on loop on the largest monitor. The speakers crackled of warped audio transmissions, faint cries for help, Captain Jyr Wandering Star's horrified commentary, and the sounds of explosion after nuclear explosion. His back was turned on his fellow Autobots, so that they could not see that, in fact, the ever-smiling face of the happy-go-lucky communications chief had indeed cracked a frown of sadness and anger. The image changed, to Paradron, as compiled from the survivors of the Autobot colony by the Iacon Defense Hub, as a similar fate befell their planet. In the very corner, the same ship, an asymmetrical battlecruiser of sorts, orbited the fire-dotted world, a purple blemish on its hull.

The Autobots watched in silence as Blaster's head bowed, not wanting to see any more of the destruction and chaos the monitor revealed.

"According to stellar charts," Avalanche barked coolly, "Paradron is about eleven light years at a forty seven degree arc from Noveau Alaska, in a pocket of null-space that, if scanners were to pick it up, has the properties of a black hole."

"An interesting concept," Perceptor mulled, "the gravitational pull must be a fraction of what is produced by a true black hole, thus confusing any ship's navigational systems and thus forcing the crew to steer away from the phenomenon-"

A stern tapping of one's finger against the table caused Perceptor to cast a sheepish glance towards Ultra Magnus.

"Now isn't the time for theories, Perceptor," Rodimus reminded. "After we get this sorted out, then you can technobabble us all you want. But for now, let's stick to the subject."

"Paradron was attacked a decacycle ago," Avalanche continued, "and Noveau Alaska, not even a solar cycle."

"Wait a minute," Kup stood, meeting Avalanche's cool gaze, "are you saying that they traveled eleven light years in a single decacycle?"

"That can't be right," Ultra Magnus exclaimed.

"Not unless they used a warp gate," Rodimus retorted. "I don't know how they work, but they're made to go from point A to point B in no time, right?"

"Utilizing tesseracts, yes," Perceptor nodded. "By using tachyons to warp space around time, connecting two points in space to create-"

"Perceptor, enough," Ultra Magnus warned.

"The only warp gate in that vicinity is the one near Noveau Alaska," Avalanche reminded. "The last ship logged through it before it was closed off was the  _ Von's Blade _ ; since then, Sirian Defense and the IA Galactic Police have been on high alert at the connecting gate near Sirius II. No, they did not use a warp gate to get anywhere near Noveau Alaska."

A thick silence blanketed the group, until Wreck-Gar's head snapped up, his fibre-optic beard laced through his fingers as he was in deep thought.

"Good Primus, Cap'n," he swore in a fake Scottish accent, "th' Klingons have warp capability!"

"An internal warp generator! Of course!" Perceptor struck an epiphany. "How fascinating...a warp generator small enough to be used within a ship's engine-"

"Perceptor, that's not a good thing," Rodimus chided.

The red Autobot scientist nodded, his head low. "Forgive me, Rodimus, but there is so much we could learn..."

"People are dying, Perceptor," First Aid glared at the scientist. "Whatever this force is, it must be stopped before more are killed!"

"Calm down, First Aid," Rodimus placed a hand on the medic's arm. "Perceptor feels the same way about this threat as you do."

"We all express that sentiment, actually," Avalanche agreed. "The Intragalactic Alliance has given permission for all branches Sirian Military to do everything in their power to stop this. This includes searching out outside help, especially with the Cybertronians."

"We have little choice," Ultra Magnus remarked simply. "If they can cover a stretch of space that would normally take a decade to cross in a single decacycle, then no one in this quadrant is safe."

"Our thoughts exactly," Avalanche's face contorted into a rather saddened expression.

*

"Artemis! Hey, Art!"

Raff's sprint let him easily catch up to the gloss black femme Autobot; however, she made no indication that she even heard him.

How unlike her.

Halting, he chewed his bottom lip as he watched her round a corner. His overlay vision, seeing the threads, noted that the red ribbon was in fact intertwined around her, with no apparent beginning or end.

If they were continuous, he remembered Minerva instructing him, it usually is a sign of power. The silver rings around the stocky woman were her connection with the Sidhe. Even her large claymore possessed a ring that would connect with Minerva's own, forging together to form a tight bind, intensifying the silver.

However, these bands that encircled Artemis were not of the silver he was used to.

He would have to ask Minerva when she got out from talking with the Autobots.

"Coyote," he whispered, a quiet prayer, as he took up a slow pursuit of the Cybertronian woman, "your wayward son asks for aide. I feel my friend is in trouble...the red ribbon that binds her, what does it mean?"

The trickster god he had learned to respect during his time on the reservation would probably not hear his plea, Raff rationalized. Truth be told, it wasn't the fact that he didn't believe in gods and fables, but rather he left Earth to escape their pull. Coming back may have indeed irked the old gods.

However, it seems that Coyote chose to answer, as the red ribbon fluxed abruptly behind Artemis, creating the illusion of, at first, a cariacture of feathered wings before stiffening, shrinking, becoming more mechanical in shape, pointing upward in a familiar military fashion before dispersing, returning to their former entwining around the femme.

Raff halted his trek, confused, blinking as he contemplated the vision.

"Thank you, Coyote," he whispered, "but I still don't know what it means."

*

If there was one thing Brin hated, it was kids. No matter the species, they were all the same. Drooling little monsters with no discipline whatsoever.

Had she stayed with her parent clan, Brin would have more than likely been married off to one of the clan bureaucrats who liked to keep their wives in the home and preferred them, as the humans say, barefoot and pregnant. Definitely not her taste, so she left the clan; she was then hunted down and brought back to the Demon Matriarch. It was the Clan of the Shadow's Matriarch who pleaded for Brin's life, however, and in exchange for it, the Demons rendered her infertile, a common Demon ritual if one clansman were to defect to the other in times of peace. Had they been at war, she wouldn't have been so lucky.

So in the end, she got out of both the Demon clan and motherhood in one fell swoop, nothing lost, save for plumbing she had no intention of using.

Back to the kids, two of them, one human with red-brown hair, the other an orange and yellow Cybertronian, regarded her with curious expressions on their faces.

"Shoo," she waved her hand at them, annoyed. "Can't you see I'm busy?"

"You're just standing there," the human pointed out.

"I'm keeping guard of the ship," she retorted. "Go watch cartoons or something."

"I've never seen a Sirian up close before," the human boy stated, matter-of-factly. "Do you all look like wolves?"

"Wolves," she snorted, shaking her head.

"Later on, we'll have more fun," the Cybertronian child whispered to the human, "but you've got homework, so we best run."

"What he said," Brin exclaimed, her annoyance level reaching a new peak.  _ Great. One speaks in rhyme. How nauseatingly cute. _ "Now buzz off."

She was relieved when she noticed Raff return with a purposeful run; taking hold of her arm, he gave her a slight tug.

"Brin, let's talk," he exclaimed, giving the boys a slight nod. "Mind if I steal her away for a quick moment? We've got to talk business."

"Oh, thank the Howl," Brin sighed, allowing Raff to lead her into the bay area of the ship. "Another click with those little monsters and I thought I was going to do something illegal."

"Something is wrong with Art," Raff revealed firmly, without introduction. "Coyote gave me a sign, I'm still trying to figure it out, but I know that it's not good."

"A sign...? Coyote? Who's Coyote?"

"Coyote-never mind who Coyote is. Has Minnie come back yet?"

"No, she's still in with the Autobots. Raff, what's going on?"

She must have realised his urgency, calling him by his first name rather than resorting to either his surname or some insulting nickname.

"Art didn't acknowledge me, like I didn't even exist."

"What about this 'sign' you were talking about?" Skepticism seeped the black-furred Sirian's voice.

"Wings. That's all I could really make out. Coyote is a trickster, and doesn't like to spell things out to anyone, least of all a son who abandoned him."

"He's your father?"

"In a sense; it's kind of difficult to explain." Explaining gods to Sirians was a very difficult thing to do; the Howl wasn't a god, but more of a tome, a collection of their recorded history and legends for the past four thousand years. They did not worship the Howl like a god, either; rather, it was more like how the Autobots revered the Matrix, as an artifact of great wisdom and guidance. But then, the Autobots had gods. Sirians believed physical, sentient beings were the highest form of existence; there was nothing above them.

Of course, no Sirian had ever gone physically toe-to-toe with a Baen Sidhe.

Raff himself still had difficulty grasping the concept of the Sidhe. According to Minerva Sidhe were once humans at one point. Then this was followed by a rather lengthy scientific explanation involving someone a couple of million years ago named Eve and energy which of course Raff got totally lost in mainly because it really didn't have anything to do with him. Or so he thought, but that really wasn't the point right now; at the present, they had some Decepticon splinter group going around destroying colonies, Quintessons making bases in the Sol system, and their Autobot friend ignoring them.

"Your silence is unnerving," Brin grumbled, storming to the cockpit area of the  _ Shrike's Cry.  _ Calling up a monitor displaying the northwestern United States along with British Columbia, she stared at the display with a heavy sigh. "This is boring."

"I've got an idea," Raff exclaimed. "Feel up to doing a little slinking?"

"What have you got in mind?" Brin questioned, staring up at him with her odd eyes wide.

"Galvatron retreated, but to where?" Raff demanded in rhetoric.

"You want me to find him," she rebutted dryly.

"Finding him is easy; just find concentrated Decepticon signals. Without their spymaster, they're going to have a hard time jamming their own signals. I meant more keep watch on them and make sure they don't do something stupid."

"Like exist?" Brin stood upright, stretching her arms over her head. "If it relieves boredom, sure, I'll run a scout."

"Good, because I'm not leaving this ship," Raff retorted, falling hard into the tactical station's seat. Crossing his arms over his chest, he swung his legs onto the console. "I've had enough of the threads for one day."

Brin nodded. "I'll check in every megacycle. Tell Ryder what I'm doing, and for Howl's sake, Raff, tell her about the threads."

"I plan on it," he nodded, pulling his baseball cap over his eyes.

*

_ Pathetic fleshling. Stupid, predictable insect. _

Starscream was thankful the "ignore it, it will go away" tactic worked. Last thing he needed was interruption in his task, as pointless as it seemed. But in trade for his own shell, rather than relying on "borrowing" Artemis's after she flat out refused to aid him, what was he to question silly requests?

Starscream froze, Artemis's once cold blue optics, now ruby red, widened in surprise when, coming towards him but not quite noticing him yet, were two Autobots, the shorter one orange and black and a strange alternate mode, the one he had never seen before in his existence, accompanied the much taller red and white transport.

Within, he felt Artemis's spark stir in attempts to call out for help.

_ Not now, Arty,  _ he chided, contemplating his next move.

"Artemis!"

Skyfire's voice sent a jolt down Starscream's borrowed spine. Fighting the urge to retaliate against the traitor-or flee from his former friend, although he would not admit that to anyone-he finally regarded the gentle giant.

"Hello, Skyfire," he greeted smoothly in the ex-mercenary's voice, barely keeping in check his contempt. "How're you?"

"Artemis, something terrible has happened!" Skyfire exclaimed abruptly. "You probably already know about the apparent Decepticon attack on Seti VIII earlier today..." Shaking his head, Skyfire stumbled for words. He obviously had a lot on his mind to be this scatterbrained. "This is Sandstorm, from an Autobot colony called Paradron. Sandstorm, this is one of my dearest friends, Artemis."

"A pleasure to meet you, Sandstorm," Starscream nodded, lacking emotion, attempting to find something useful to say or risk blowing his cover. For starters, for Skyfire to call Artemis his dearest friend...those words shouldn't have stung like they did. On top of that, he had known nothing about any attack, Decepticon or otherwise. Where would Galvatron get the resources for that type of attack-oh, perhaps it could have been the Decepticons from Cygnus VII...?

"Paradron was attacked by the same ship about a decacycle ago," Skyfire continued swiftly, his soft voice wavering with concern. "Somehow these Decepticons are able to travel-"

"Hey, you all right there?" Sandstorm interrupted, snapping his fingers in front of Starscream's nose. Out of habit, he slapped the newcomer's hand out of the way, resisting the urge to shove his null ray up the kid's nose- _ oh, wait, no null rays. Slot. _

"No, I'm not all right," he snapped, finally finding the perfect cover. "Galvatron is destroying his own men left and right for no good reason, and still they won't stand against him! Soundwave's been captured by-"  _ Careful,  _ he warned himself, "-us, and Ramjet's for the most part smelted, not to mention Rumble and Frenzy pretty much giving up and turning themselves in. And now there's another Decepticon faction out there destroying colonies at will? This is madness!"

"I had feared Galvatron would come to this," Skyfire whispered, clasping his old friend's left shoulder. Starscream sensed Artemis wince; ex post facto, he remembered it was her weak shoulder from when Galvatron blasted her arm off, almost two stellar cycles past. On top of it, her wince silent to all save him meant she could still perceive sensation in her shell, she just didn't have the control. "Let's just hope that we can defeat Galvatron and bring peace back to our people."

_ With all that intelligence, you still believe in peace,  _ dear Skyfire, Starscream thought sardonically.  _ You are indeed a fool, much like Arty.  _ He nodded, then remarked softly, however emotionless as though reading from a script, "We have to defeat him, no matter what." Pulling away from Skyfire, Starscream marched off. "I've got to go."

Looking down, he found his fist shaking, not the true blue he had been so accustomed to, but Artemis's long, slender fingers on the end of a tapering arm, where mounted to the gloss black finish was a sheath for her escrima sticks. Emotions he had forgotten about seeped into existence.

_ You were the one who betrayed Skyfire,  _ he found himself thinking.  _ You were the one who had changed, not him. He is how he was before the Great War, before Megatron and his Decepticons, before you lost the innocence of peace for the power of war. _

"Stop it, Arty," he hissed quietly, angered. "You're wasting my time with your attempts to get me to grow a conscience."

She seemed to accept defeat, for now, as her presence sunk lower from his perception.

"He thinks a lot of you now," he then commented, glancing back at Skyfire and Sandstorm. "Perhaps I can use that to my advantage. But to get him alone...now that is the trick." With a swift pivot, the possessed Autobot then bolted back to Skyfire, taking hold of his arm.

"Skyfire, I really need to talk to you alone," he pleaded. Optics wide in effect, lips slightly parted, look desperate...oh, how he remembered that look from countless others in the past, and oh, how it worked on those searching for companionship. Lucky for him, he had never been that desperate, but Skyfire...especially for a friend...? Oh, he would fall for it, and hard, and not because of any underlying innuendo or seductive promise, but because Artemis was a friend seeking help.

True to his nature, Skyfire excused himself from Sandstorm's company, walking alongside the femme, her hand never straying from his arm.

"What's wrong, Artemis?" he questioned sincerely, his concern heavy.

Oh, now we get to have fun, Starscream, face shadowed by the setting sun, smirked to himself. Quickly regaining that wretched expression, he shook his head, almost frightened.

"Starscream haunts me, Skyfire," he whimpered; Artemis boiled with rage from within, coiled as though ready to strike at any moment. Little good that will do her now. "Ever since he died, he's been trying to get me to do his bidding from beyond."

"If I hadn't witnessed his twisted morality firsthand, I wouldn't be able to believe that, Artemis." Kneeling, the giant took hold of the ex-mercenary's shoulders. "Is there any way we can stop him?"

_ This was just too tempting. Oh, what the hell. _

With a cruel smile growing on his borrowed face, he looked up at his former friend, his optics blazing red through the optics of the Autobot femme. Allowing his own voice to answer, he uttered: "In a word, no."

Skyfire gave him exactly the reaction he wanted; falling back, the red and white giant stared at the femme, shocked.

"Starscream...?" he whispered. "How...? Why...?"

"Why did I possess Artemis? Simple, really. I require a shell. She was the easiest to possess, due to her ability to hear and see me, not to mention she didn't exactly feel the need to guard her spark around me. Her mistake, really. Now, we can do this my way, my dear Skyfire, or we can do this the very hard way, and I can assure you right now the very hard way is not a pleasant one."

"But Artemis-"

"Let me get to the point." Striking a dangerous pose, legs spread apart with one hand on his hip, the other taking hold of Skyfire's chin, forcing optic contact, "I have the chance to acquire a new shell, but in order to do that, I have to perform three labours. I will give Artemis up once the labours have been completed, unharmed. Now, let us weigh our options here, Skyfire. I get a shell, I become tangible, corporeal. Without a shell, I can be everywhere and anywhere I want to be, possess anyone I wish. As tempting as it sounds, staying dead really isn't what it's cracked up to be. I want to live again. So, you can do two things. One, help me. By doing this, I will get these tasks done quicker, and the sooner I get my shell, the sooner I let Artemis go. Or two, don't help me. I'll complete the tasks, but in the meantime, I may end up bringing harm to Artemis, not to mention having to kill you because you now know my plan. So, which is it, Skyfire? The ball is now in your court."

Skyfire remained still, his optics clouding over any emotion save logic. This, Starscream remembered, was when Skyfire was most dangerous, when he pushed his feelings and beliefs on the back burner and allowed cool logic to take over.

"You would risk," the Autobot hissed, "the only two friends you have left in the universe for this."

To this, Starscream chuckled, his grip loosening from Skyfire's chin, only to cup his former friend's face.

"Much has changed, my dear Skyfire," he chided, shaking his head slowly. "I've found that friends are a liability in this day and age." Starscream furrowed his brow somewhat abruptly. "I thought you had come to realise that by now."

Stepping back, allowing his arm to drop, Starscream slouched back a bit, one hand still on a hip, almost in a provocative manner. His optics, however, remained on the still-kneeling Autobot.

"I don't understand how or why you became like this," Skyfire rose, now towering over Starscream, nigh menacing, "but I know we both remember how you were before. That was the Starscream we befriended, who we were loyal to."

"Oh, not you too." Throwing his hands upwards in an exaggerated show of exasperation, Starscream then resumed the hipshot, one palm to his face. "Skyfire, Skyfire, Skyfire, you don't let go of the past, you know that?"

"Nor do you."

Starscream froze a moment before slowly glaring up at the giant Autobot. His mouth opened to issue a severe retort, he was interrupted by a gesture; Skyfire had turned his back on the possessed femme.

"I'll aid you, Starscream," he growled, nearing rare anger. "For Artemis, and a friend who died long ago."

"What the hell do you mean by that?"

He did not receive an answer from Skyfire save for him walking away.

_ The Starscream we both knew died when Skyfire disappeared,  _ Artemis hissed from within.  _ He's now realised this. _

An audible growl issued from Starscream's gritted expression. "Sentimental nonsense," he finally snarled in his own voice, storming off after Skyfire.

*

Grimlock felt stupid.

It was a feeling that most people hated. Scientific explanation flew over his head, and he could not figure out heads nor tails of the conversation.

Grimlock not only hated it, he loathed it.

Vaguely, he remembered he was smart once, but his brain got locked and he became stupid. It was a story, however, not really a memory. His true memories were locked. He stood, a shadow of his former self, watching dumbly as Perceptor and First Aid were dangerously close to getting into a verbal war, with Rodimus attempting to settle the peace.

Grimlock needed to be smart again, he rationalized. Grimlock needed to unlock his brain.

But where was the key?

_ Swoop would know!  _ Other Dinobots were grunt work. They liked to fight. And Snarl kept wandering off; he wouldn't know where the key was, unless maybe he stumbled over it on his travels. Swoop was the quiet, thoughtful Dinobot, meaning he was smart, aside from Grimlock. But Grimlock was not as smart as he once was.

_ Other Autobots not miss Grimlock if Grimlock left. _

As quietly as a giant robot dinosaur could, he slipped out of the War Room without any notice, his optics betraying a frustration he could only comprehend.

He knew where the others were, and the other Autobots would think he was going there to watch TV with them.

In the recreation room, the other four Dinobots stared in rapt attention at the  _ Yu-Gi-Oh! _ episode, trying to tell Yugi which card to play against Pegasus. Even cartoons seemed distant to him, Grimlock brooded, before turning to Swoop, the only Dinobot in his robot mode.

"Does Swoop know where Grimlock's brain key is?" he questioned without introduction.

It was an odd question, true, as the other Dinobots collectively turned their heads to regard their leader, as they knew what he was talking about.

"Where Grimlock have it last?" Slag questioned, his horned head perched on the couch next to Swoop.

"Grimlock can't remember that far back." Scratching the side of his head with one small arm, the leader dimmed his optics completely in attempts to recall. "Me think me had it five years ago."

"Grimlock did," Swoop nodded. "Swoop remember...Grimlock was smart, then Grimlock did bad thing."

Slag, Sludge, and Snarl all diverted their attention to the flyer.

"Yes, Sludge remember bad thing," the apatosaur nodded.

"Snarl not remember," the stegosaurus stated.

"Snarl went out grazing," Slag rebutted in jest.

"Grimlock did bad thing?" Grimlock questioned, surprised. "Grimlock not remember that."

"Grimlock can't remember because Grimlock did bad thing," Swoop explained simply, before hiding his face. "No, Swoop now do bad thing! Swoop not supposed to say anything! So long ago, Swoop forgot!"

"Swoop know where brain key is?" Stomping forward, Grimlock pushed his snout directly in front of Swoop. "Swoop tell Grimlock! Grimlock want to be smart again! Want to help other Autobots!"

The pterodactyl Transformer meeped softly, moving back against the couch.

"Swoop not know..." he shook his head meekly. "But Swoop will help find it if Grimlock want."

"Yes! Grimlock want!"

"What did Grimlock lose?" A small voice questioned from the door.

"Grimlock lost brain key," Snarl exclaimed as Daniel Witwicky and Wheelie entered the room. "Dinobots go look for it."

"'Brain key?'" Daniel questioned, half-curious.

"Grimlock lost key to brain," Swoop explained. "He not remember when he was smart."

"Maybe you need some other help to find," Wheelie exclaimed, "to look for the key to unlock your mind?"

Daniel, however, remained silent, as though contemplating what to say exactly.

"Maybe you should speak to Kup and Rodimus about that," Daniel finally stated, however slowly, just as a white and black blur bolted into the room, snatching the remote from under Snarl's chin. Holding it over her head in triumph, Cavalier planted the palm of her hand smack into Eject's face as he ran in.

"Foul!" the Autobot cassette shouted. "You've got longer legs!"

"All's fair in love and war, Eject," Cavalier chided sweetly. "Especially when it comes to qualifier races for the Winston Cup. You can watch spring training upstairs with Rewind."

"No! Yu-Gi-Oh!" Slag retorted, finally catching the drift that the young Autobot was threatening their television time.

"Dude, I'll pirate the entire series for you if you just let me watch the qualifier," Cavalier begged, her hands clasped in front of her in a pleading fashion to the Dinobot. Eject rolled his optics with an exasperated sigh.

"I can't believe you would sink so low as to pull that!" he grumbled forcibly, storming out of the room.

"Grimlock have idea!" Grimlock exclaimed. "Grimlock leader of Dinobots, so Grimlock have final say!"

Cavalier's optics dimmed quickly, regarding the much larger Dinobot.

"Grimlock let you watch your koala-f-f-your race, if you help Grimlock with something."

"Grimlock, that might not be a good idea," Daniel warned. Grimlock swung his head to look down on the human, although there was no animosity in the challenge.

"Daniel not think it good idea for Grimlock to be smart?" Grimlock whimpered. "Why?"

It was unnerving, Daniel realised, to have seven Autobots stare at him for an explanation to something he himself didn't fully understand.

"It's not that, Grimlock," Daniel finally stammered out, giving the Dinobot leader a slight pat on the tip of his nose. "I like you as you are...if you are smart, you might forget us."

"I really did miss something, didn't I?" Cavalier muttered to Swoop, crossing her arms over her chest and, in the process, casually flipped the channel to Fox. Snarl and Slag growled as Yugi was replaced in mid speech by Jeff Gordon rambling on about how he was going to win pole position for the Daytona 500. Swoop nodded with a slight "uh-huh" but did not volunteer any other information on the topic.

"Grimlock not forget his friends!" Grimlock protested. "Grimlock want to be smart so Grimlock can help friends!"

"All right, so this has to do with Grimlock's brain-shut the slot up, Jeff!" Hitting the mute button, Cavalier threw the remote on top of the television. "Swoop, if you see Li'l E, tell me."

"Who?" Swoop questioned.

"Dude in red." Regarding Grimlock fully as Swoop gave a soft "Okay," she then questioned, "so what's going on?"

"Grimlock feel useless to Autobots," Grimlock explained. "Grimlock was smart once, but got brain locked. Grimlock now looking for brain key."

"Red dude!" The other Dinobots chimed in unison. Cavalier looked over her shoulder and snorted.

"Nope, that's Mayfield," she corrected. "Li'l E's number 8." Once again locking gazes with Grimlock, she continued without skipping a beat, "So this 'brain key' is probably more metaphysical, like a program, then."

"Grimlock wish he was smart so he understood what Cavalier said."

"You're not looking for an actual key," she simplified. "You're looking for a program. There's a program that is holding your memories in place."

"Red dude!" the Dinobots chimed again.

"Bill Elliot, number 9," she amended, somewhat disappointed.

"So Cavalier saying there no key?" Grimlock questioned heavily, his head drooping.

"I didn't say there wasn't a key," she resumed. "It's just not a physical one you can hold in your hand."

"Cavalier know where Grimlock can find brain key?" Grimlock demanded, pleadingly.

"Depending how difficult it is, I could or could not find it," she answered truthfully. "Granted, I'm no Perceptor, but if it's something simple enough for me to hack, then I could find it. When did you lose your smarts, Grimmy?"

"Almost six years ago," Daniel interrupted, defeated. "In 2002."

"Six years..." she dimmed her optics in thought. "Giving the benefit of the doubt that the memory retention program was not updated, then I shouldn't have any problem-"

"Eight Dale dude!" Swoop cried out, as the Sludge, Snarl, and Slag swung their heads to regard the flier with a collective "huh?"

Cavalier snapped her head to the screen and laughed.

"Dale Jarrett, number 88. Ugliest car ever. But close, Swoop, I'll grant you that." Once again, she met Grimlock's hopeful optics. "What was I saying again...?"

Daniel found his own eyes locked on Swoop's, the flier with a clear "hey, I tried" expression. It worked, Daniel realised, especially with Cavalier's inability to resume on track when NASCAR is involved. However, it wasn't to last forever.

"You seem to know about Grimlock's brain," Wheelie whispered in a hush tone as Cavalier and Grimlock attempted to remember their tangent. "Why not bring sunshine to his rain?"

"It's not that simple, Wheelie," Daniel hissed, leading his best friend out into the hallway. "Optimus Prime had Grimlock's memories locked for a reason."

"But he's our friend-" Wheelie protested, just before Daniel shook his head, thus interrupting the Autobot's couplet.

"He betrayed the Autobots to the Decepticons," the human murmured bluntly. "He didn't see the point of defending the humans and betrayed the Autobots. That's what happened. That's why Optimus had his memories blocked, so Grimlock could begin from scratch."

Wheelie, to this, was silent, at least momentarily.

"It's not easy to forget," the small Autobot rebutted, his tone seemingly older, "what you learn to regret."

"What do you mean?"

Wheelie shrugged enigmatically, a strange, almost wise expression on his face; on the topic, he said no more.

It was clear that Cavalier had totally lost Grimlock as she continued on her excited hypothesis. With a defeated sigh, Daniel finally decided to confront the situation head on.

"I really think you guys should talk to Kup about this," the human stated firmly.

"Kup listen to Grimlock!" Grimlock nodded, swinging his head back to the Autobot femme. "But Kup in meeting."

"All the more reason to get to work, eh?" Cavalier nodded enthusiastically; although Daniel never really dealt with Cavalier on a regular basis, he knew for her to be torn away from her NASCAR meant she was going to go head long into trouble.

"Me see red dude!" Snarl suddenly shouted.

Or maybe not, as Cavalier's attention focused on the human on the screen.

"It's about time!" She whooped, sinking onto the couch next to Swoop. "There's my boy!"

"What about Grimlock's brain?" Grimlock whimpered.

"Sit down and watch the qualifier," she suggested, patting the remaining seat next to her. "We'll discuss details."

At this point, it was safer to escape. Estimating about an hour before the qualifying races were over, Daniel took Wheelie by the arm and started dragging him towards the control center of the main building.

"You're afraid of Grimlock's plan going off without a hitch," Wheelie remarked, again using that older tone, "but if all works well, you'll be seen as a snitch."

"Wheelie, you weren't around-please, trust me on this," Daniel pleaded, his eyes large. "This isn't about tattling who stole the energon goodies..."

"You're afraid he'll forget being friends with you," the Autobot child pointed out, "you're fear's clear in your voice, and your eyes, too."

Daniel nodded to this, finally bowing his head.

"Yeah," he agreed. "It is."

Wheelie clapped a gentle hand on his friend’s shoulder with a reassuring smile, just as the slight tremor of something large moving down the hall. Quickly casting gazes over their shoulders, the two boys stepped aside, allowing Skyfire and Artemis to pass by. Although the white and red giant granted them a kind smile and a warm greeting, the starlight black femme only focused straight ahead, not even acknowledging the two much smaller beings.

"Something's wrong in Skyfire's eyes," Wheelie whispered. "He's holding the weight of a vicious lie."

"What do you mean?"

"A fear that travels in mass sums, something wicked this way comes." Pushing forward, the smallest Autobot took up a march tailing the two other Cybertronians. "Don't fret about Grimlock to let your fears wallow, I think Skyfire needs us to follow."

"Skyfire's in trouble?" Catching up to his friend with a slight jog, Daniel slowed, matching the Autobot's serious stride.

Wheelie only nodded, his jaw set, determined.

It was the first time Daniel found himself wondering exactly how old Wheelie was, and how long he had been stranded on Quintessa.

*

"Galvatron did a grave disservice to the Decepticons when he destroyed me," Starscream muttered, his fiery gaze focused straight ahead. "However, lacking any foresight whatsoever, he granted me the ability to go where I please, even through enemy territory, undetected."

As the two once-friends ventured deeper into the control hub of Autobot City, and into the area that was truly Metroplex, Autobot personnel seemed to be less present here. Skyfire slowed somewhat, as though examining the circuitry and service tubes lining the walls; here, the corridors were more cylindrical than the rest of Autobot City, with less right angles and more of a natural, living flow.

"Even with her low-level security code, Artemis still has access to Metroplex's brain center," Starscream explained, noting Skyfire dwindling behind. With an exasperated sigh, the possessed femme took hold of the giant's wrist and yanked him forward. "We don't have time to waste, dear Skyfire. With every click, we risk the chance of being caught...though I must warn you, repercussions against me will be trivial to nil compared to what they will do to you and Artemis."

"You honestly don't care what happens to us, do you?" Skyfire growled, bordering a rare anger.

"I'm telling you to shift it into overdrive and let's get down to business!" Starscream's voice, even as low as he fought to keep his tone down, still hit the tell-tale shrill whenever he was stressed, angered, or frightened. "If we get caught now, I lose the only two operatives with any competence whatsoever and will be forced to start from scratch."

"What is your scheme anyway, Starscream?" Skyfire demanded. "You still haven't told me what you're trying to accomplish."

"I made a deal with Unicron," Starscream stated simply, as though it was a common occurrence for anyone to do. "Three tasks, and he grants me a shell. Task number one: get Metroplex's optics. Now, don't ask me why he wants them, because frankly, I have no clue, nor do I really care. But who am I to question a god, eh?" With a short bark of a laugh, Starscream's expression grew serious. "I need you to send a low level EMP burst through Metroplex's sensory relays, and have it oscillate throughout the spectrum to make it seem like a simple malfunction." Taking a militant stride towards the large sensory nodes and optical cords running waist high on the femme Transformer from the brain center of the city guardian to the far wall, where two retina sheaths housed the first goal.

Skyfire examined the console in front of him, a monitor revealing Metroplex's resting statistics. Looking back to where Starscream stood in Artemis's shell, he shook his head, defeated, before initiating a routine diagnostic check. This shut Metroplex's core consciousness off from his senses, in which it would be easier to introduce the EMP irregularity. Later, he promised himself, he would take the time to explain to Metroplex why he did this, but in the meantime, he truly feared that Starscream would throw all ties to the past into the wind and do something terribly drastic, and quite possibly tragic, in the process.

"EMP is cycling," Skyfire announced. "Metroplex's diagnostics will pick it up in thirty clicks, and it will rectify it in five cycles. Diagnostics will then return core consciousness back online in ten cycles."

"More than enough time." Starscream nodded, pleased. "Good job, Skyfire, I wouldn't expect anything less from you. Now, assist me with removing the optics."

"We must take care, then," Skyfire reminded, "the retinal shields are extremely delicate."

"Does it look like I care?"

"If you don't want the diagnostic to pick up external tampering, you should."

To this, Starscream laughed once more, heartfully, as though he truly meant it, just before slipping under the optic nerve and pressing his back against the space between the green optics of Metroplex, studying the connections. With a skilled hand-and silently praising himself for possessing a femme, since Artemis's fingers were slender enough to nimbly disconnect the neural synapses without any trouble-Starscream successfully removed the large optics, a metal and crystal construction easily the width between Artemis's shoulders. Holding one out carefully to his reluctant accomplice, he then ordered, "Put these in a safe place; I don't want them damaged, and I'd imagine Unicron wouldn't like it either."

Repeating the removal of the other optic, Starscream mentally calculated at least another two cycles before the diagnostics kicked in, giving them eight cycles to escape. Without pausing, he ducked under the nerve cord once more and dusted his hands off casually as Skyfire placed the optics in a guarded storage compartment at his side.

"Come, Skyfire, we have an order to deliver!' He exclaimed cheerfully, taking the lead without further ado, Skyfire trying to keep up to him. This was easily accomplished, for when Starscream rounded the corner to exit into the hallway, he paused, his gaze narrowing from sadistic mirth to malicious anger. Turning to face Skyfire with a barely contained rage, he snarled, "You led them here!"

"Who?" Skyfire demanded, his voice betraying nothing save surprise, only to see Daniel and Wheelie bolting down the corridor, the little Autobot transforming in mid stride and popping open his canopy door for the human to leap inside for their getaway.

"We can't allow them to get away! They know our plans!" Unhitching the rifle from his leg, Starscream took a step to take pursuit before Skyfire caught his hand.

"We have six minutes before Metroplex finds himself blind, Starscream," Skyfire reminded, rushed.  _ Our plans?  _ He questioned inwardly. Some things never change.

"Your bleeding spark will get you into trouble one of these days, Skyfire," Starscream rebutted, glaring after the nettlesome children from over his shoulder. "But unfortunately, you're right. To the roof. We'll take off from there. Now, it's a race with the Autobots."

*

Mercifully, they were not followed.

Daniel would have exhaled a sigh of relief, save that he was quite literally out of breath. Gasping for air, he leaned back in the one-seat cockpit of the little car, trying to compile his thoughts.

"This is not good," he finally managed to exhale forcibly as they entered the command hub of Autobot City, where, from the War Room exited the heads of the city, including Daniel's father Spike Witwicky, all expressing various degrees of concern.

In an often-practiced, well-executed move, Wheelie transformed with Daniel jumping out of the way as the canopy opened, landing solidly on the ground. Without so much as a breath to relax, the two youths raced forward.

In a fury of explanation from a human shouting out sentence fragments and a Cybertronian speaking in a very quick rhyme, both at the same time, it was difficult to figure out what they were trying to convey.

Of course, hearing "Starscream" in any context was enough to make one worry, especially when Blurr backed up from the rest of the group, shaking his head, his blue optics wide.

"Thatisn’tgoodweneedtodosomethingwhatdowedowhatdowedo?!" he stammered.

"Blurr, translate!" Rodimus demanded as Spike attempted to get his son calmed down.

Of course, that wasn't exactly productive, seeing that Blurr ended up speaking even faster than he normally did as he too attempted to explain what Daniel and Wheelie had just blurted out.

"Okay, someone else translate," Rodimus grumbled.

"This is going nowhere," Ultra Magnus growled. "Spike, do you understand-"

"Daniel, take a deep breath and tell us again, slowly," Spike gently ordered. The boy nodded, and started over.

"Wheelie thought Skyfire was acting funny when we passed him and Artemis in the hallway," Daniel stated, still a little faster than normal. "We followed them to Metroplex's brain center-"

"What?" The city commander exclaimed, anger flooding his optics as he took a step forward, just before Kup caught him by the arm, a warning to stay put.

"-Artemis is not in control," Wheelie added, "she's really under Starscream's thrall."

The Four Winds Autobot struck the wall with a resounding clang, jumping everyone.

"That goddamned good for nothing son of a bitch!" Avalanche snarled, pushing her way to the front of the group. "Which way did they go?"

"I take it you're familiar with Starscream, then," Kup observed, however quickly.

"He's possessed Art," the Four Winds femme growled, nigh bestial. "He's done it before, to one of our other Cybertronian employees. Dammit!"

"They went to Metroplex's tower!" Daniel pointed in the direction where they had just come from. "Skyfire's trying to slow him down!"

"Thank Primus for small wonders," Rodimus nodded. "Kup, Jazz, get security on yellow alert. Blurr, stall them now!"

"RogerrogerI'malreadythere!" The blue and white Autobot saluted, bolting up the corridor towards Metroplex's center.

"Red Alert, we're going to flank Blurr. Silverbolt, take the Aerialbots make sure Skyfire doesn't take off. Any questions? No? Let's move, people!"

With Rodimus's orders, the Autobots spread out to their assigned duties fluidly, Avalanche deciding to join Rodimus's team, her optics narrowed, angry. A rumble vibrated the walls about that point; however slight, it still rose concern in the city commander.

"Spike, have the human personnel evacuate to the outer section of the city," Magnus ordered. "I don't have any idea what they did to Metroplex, but-"

"Two steps ahead of you!" Taking hold of the boys' arms in each hand, he led them from the control room; neither Daniel or Wheelie protested the action.

"Wreck-Gar, First Aid, prep the med lab in the case of injuries. Perceptor, you're with me; we've got to figure out what happened to Metroplex."

Before the scientist could protest, Ultra Magnus had already broken into a run down the corridor to Metroplex's central station, with Perceptor attempting to keep up.

*

Two cycles before Metroplex awoke, and klaxons blared an alert.

_ This does not bode well at all _ , Starscream growled inwardly, as he led Skyfire to the rooftop of Metroplex's highest tower, overlooking the rest of the small city, windows sparkling in the late afternoon sun.

"Let's get out of here!" the possessed femme shouted shrilly to his companion.

Skyfire hesitated, of course, his optics wide, fearful.

"Starscream, I-" Obviously torn, the giant stammered.

"Now is not the time to rethink your priorities!" Starscream warned, himself becoming nervous, tapping his foot impatiently. "Let's go!"

"Let Artemis go first." His expression hardening, Skyfire's voice took a more confident, firm tone.

"Now is not the time to dictate terms, nor is it to grow a spine!"

"Let Artemis go." Balling his fists at his side, the white and red giant clearly was not going to budge from his spot. "I will continue with you if you let her go. You know damn well I keep my word."

"You're serious, aren't you?" Starscream smirked. "Fine then-"

The two were interrupted abruptly as Blurr kicked open the access door, his handgun traced on Starscream.

Iwouldn'tifIwereyounowaynohow!" the Autobot rambled.

"Slot!" Starscream shrieked, taking a step back, feinting a defeating pose before dodging left, ejecting the batons from the sheaths on his arms. Blurr was faster, true, but he lacked not only patience but he was unable to think two steps ahead. As Blurr released a volley at the possessed femme's feet, somewhat distracted by the slight quake of the tower, Starscream leapt to avoid the fire, bringing both batons down hard on the Autobot's neck, shoving him back inside.

"Idiots," he grumbled as he watched Blurr tumble down the stairwell. "They know Arty's not working on her own violation." To Skyfire, he pointed one kali stick at the large Autobot's face. "Let's go now. Metroplex is awaking. I don't want to kill you, Skyfire. Let's go."

"I'm sticking to my word." Crossing his arms over his chest, Skyfire stood his ground, shaky as it was both physically and mentally.

Starscream's glare challenged as the two former friends locked optics, a battle of wills that both knew was only wasting time before the inevitable happened.

Rodimus Prime, flanked by Avalanche, tore out of the access door, their own weapons ready.

"Give it up, Starscream!" The young Autobot leader commanded. "Let Artemis go now!"

I was a fool to trust you!" Starscream screeched into Skyfire's face, the dejection and hurt in his tone seemed truly genuine. Narrowing his borrowed optics, he dropped the kali sticks.

"The rifle too," Rodimus ordered.

"The rifle's not going to do him any good anyway," Avalanche retorted angrily. "He can't fire it and he knows it."

"Which is why I didn't bother drawing it in the first place, Ryder." Starscream snarled. "Fine. I concede."

With a swift foot, Starscream rounded behind Skyfire, running furious across the roof.

"Shit! Tell me he's not-" Avalanche took pursuit, dropping her rifle in the process as Rodimus barked into his commlink for aerial backup ASAP.

Pivoting on his heel, Skyfire watched in horror as Starscream reached the edge of the tower and leapt, as if to fly off into the stratosphere and freedom-

\- and it seemed that perhaps, there was a slim chance it would have happened...Skyfire hoped that maybe, just maybe, however impossible it was, that through some metaphysical miracle, Starscream's spark had enough influence to actually do just that.

But the laws of physics prevailed, as Artemis's shell plummeted to the tarmac below.

*

Two minutes prior, Perceptor was working diligently to reroute outer security cameras to Metroplex's retinal screens as a temporary fix to the city's blindness; it was all he could do to keep Metroplex from going on a nigh-childlike hysteria in search for his missing optics.

"I've just about completed my operative, Magnus," Perceptor exclaimed, tapping away feverishly at the console. "Very intelligent, using a low-level EMP burst to create enough of a synaptic imbalance-"

"Right now, Perceptor, I couldn't care less about how they did it," Ultra Magnus stated. They stood on an open porch, three stories up from ground level, where the override systems of Metroplex were located; in his panic, Metroplex had locked out his brain center and would not even allow his own commander to enter. Standing near the edge of the ledge, Magnus crossed his arms over his chest, trying to ascertain what was going on atop the tower directly above them. He did not believe in ghosts, but the way Wheelie and Daniel had described the situation, as well as Avalanche confirming that this had happened in the past...no. It was not possible. This was all a clever trick with a lame excuse by a cunning mercenary with patience enough to pull a heist like this-

\- still, there was a tinge of reluctance in believing that explanation, a smidgeon of hope that perhaps it might actually be true.

And if it was, how long had Starscream been manipulating her...?

A shout from above broke him from his thoughts, as Magnus threw his head back upwards. The late afternoon sun, still hanging in the west above the horizon, casted a fiery glow on a gloss black form falling at an alarming rate towards the courtyard.

"Primus!" he cursed, finding that he had shoved logic and strategy aside as he raced forward, his optics focused on the falling Autobot.

If anyone would ask him why he did what he had, he would simply retorted that it was his duty to protect the citizens of Autobot City, and leave it at that.

And in the future, Artemis would accuse him of going out of his way for what he had done.

But it was definitely a scenario that was talked about for a long time afterwards.

Shoving off the ledge with a leap, Ultra Magnus had timed it just right, bracing his arms to catch her; with her combined weight and velocity, he had barely enough time to register the pain that came with the sudden strain. Not hesitating, he braced for impact with the tarmac, keeping his knees slightly bent, preparing to roll if he had to with the landing.

With a loud crunch as his large feet cracked the tarmac, he grimaced in pain as his knees protested the abuse, flaring agony through his neural net. Unmoving, he remained crouched, his mental state finally returning to normal. Not exactly the brightest move he had ever executed, he chided himself.

Of course, the abrupt grip around his neck, shaking, terrified, as Artemis practically attached herself to him, was a bit of a surprise all in itself.

"Don't let me fall," she hissed, her voice her own, trembling. "Don't let me fall..."

To make matters worse, the scene had attracted a crowd of Autobots, some even clapping at the heroics. With a somewhat annoyed sigh, Ultra Magnus finally stood straight, although with some pain, his shoulders slumping when he found that the femme was not going to let go any time soon.

"You can release me now," he suggested dryly.

*

"Crisis one averted," Rodimus exhaled the breath he had been holding for a good half-cycle. Red Alert, supporting a slightly woozy Blurr, joined the three Autobots on the roof shortly after. "Skyfire, what happened?"

"I'm sorry, Rodimus," Skyfire whispered. "I did everything I could to try to stop him, but..."

"Why did Starscream want Metroplex's optics?" Red Alert demanded, now aiding Blurr into a sitting position against the access door.

"He said something about making a deal with Unicron for a new shell," Skyfire answered truthfully. "I assisted him only because he threatened to harm Artemis as well as other Autobots in the process. I...I wasn't confident he was bluffing."

"It's all right, Skyfire, you did your best." Rodimus shot the giant a reassuring grin. "Besides, had you not intervened, who's telling how much damage Starscream would have done otherwise?"

To this, Skyfire nodded slowly, his head bowed to his chest.

"A new shell, eh?" Avalanche snorted. "Oh, I do hope he succeeds in that, if only to watch Darxtar tear him apart for what he did to Art."

The giant Autobot seemed to mull over this, remaining quiet, his optics dim.

"Well, one thing's for certain," Rodimus pointed out, taking on a cynical tone, "between the Quintessons and these warp-capable Decepticons and now Starscream, we've really got trouble now."

A slight chuckle abruptly rose from Skyfire as his head rose, an uncharacteristic smirk spreading across his face.

"Oh, how right you are, Prime," Starscream spoke through his old friend. "How right you are. And Ryder? Tell the old man it will be I who tears him apart this time around."

With that, the transport launched off swiftly, forcing the two nearest Autobots to shield their faces from the exhaust blast.

"Slot!" the leader swore. "Aerialbots! Powerglide! Stormrave! Intercept Skyfire!"

"Alert Cybertron what's going on!" Avalanche barked. "We know where he's going at least!"

With a nod, Rodimus agreed; however, his thoughts drifted again, doubting.

The burden of the Matrix seemed to weigh heavier and heavier within his chest, to the point that it was becoming unbearable.


	4. Ground Zero!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skyfire finds himself questioning Starscream's true motives, and Galvatron pushes forward with his scheme to take on the Earthside Autobots head-on! Meanwhile, Cavalier purposely gets assigned to a punishment detail, Peceptor figures out how the newly discovered Cybertronian faction is travelling without the use of the warpgates, and Rodimus Prime inadvertantly volunteers to test the device...with disasterous results.

Issue #4: Ground Zero!

Unicron's Orbit around Cybertron

It was a small blessing, at least for the deceased Air Commander, that Skyfire was perhaps the fastest flier amongst the Autobots. By the time the Autobots managed to send warning to the Sirian gatekeepers and Iacon Defense that Skyfire wasn't exactly himself, he had crossed the warpgate into Cybertronian space.

"We have to make this quick," Starscream hissed as he touched down, escaping Skyfire's shell swiftly. Dumbly, the white and red giant shook his head, disorientated.

"What..."

"Not now, Skyfire! Let's go!"

It was a shock to Skyfire, Starscream realised, to hear his voice without a mortal shell. Locking his gaze on the bright ball of light, the Autobot scientist pressed forward, following the ghost of his dead friend.

_ Friend _ . After all Starscream had done, Skyfire still referred to him as his friend.  _ Why? _ Logically, that bridge should have been burned twenty years ago. Still, the old loyalty he held dear was still strong; in this situation, it was a nigh damning trait.

After trekking through the twisting corridors of Unicron's head, Skyfire found himself led into a monstrous cavern, the flickering of strange, non symmetrical monitors in a spheroid construction, some revealing white, pixelated noise, some with not-quite focused images, and only a couple with crisp clarity. One of these showed a large ship with a strange stinger type tail, a stylised Decepticon symbol branded on its hull. Squinting at the image, Skyfire pressed forward, deciphering the familiar text underneath the emblem.

"' _ Twilight,' _ " he whispered, his curiosity piqued. "At least if it is indeed ancient Polyhexian based script-"

"Skyfire!" Starscream barked shrilly, with a proud hint of accomplishment. "Present Metroplex's optics!"

Pulled out of his observation quite rudely, Skyfire nodded, dejected, as he removed the two large metal and crystal orbs from his cargo compartments, each fitting in the palm of one hand, and set them on a control panel.

It did not dawn on the scientist until that moment, when he could hear not only Starscream but a deep sound not unlike heavy breathing, as though one was dreaming. There was no possible way for any noise to travel in space, especially when a planetoid or moon was devoid of any atmosphere.

And as soon as he realised this, it grew silent, as a wave of emptiness seemed to wash over him, as though he was the only one present within this dead god's head.

"Hmph." Starscream's snort disproved the observation. "You have me run fool's errands just to prove my competence."

At first, Skyfire almost believed the comment to be directed towards him; however, the ghost's biting laugh banished the thought.

"Consider it done, Lord Unicron," Starscream chortled, his invisible presence returning to Skyfire's side. "Come, old friend...we need to get planetside, more specifically, The Hall of Leaders in Polyhex."

"Is that wise, Starscream?" Skyfire questioned earnestly. "The Autobots would be on full alert by now. They will be looking for me. As soon as I enter airspace, Sky Patrol will be on my tail."

"And you will betray my plan to the Autobots?" Starscream snarled.

"You've already made it known you still exist, Starscream," Skyfire pointed out. "What else is there to say of your plan?"

"Swear to me you mention nothing of my current task."

A figurative staredown, although the white and red Autobot could almost swear he was caught in his old friend's phantom ruby glare. Starscream was releasing him, Skyfire realised.  _ Freedom. _

Finally he nodded, averting his optics. "I swear."

He sensed rather than heard a slight snort from the dead Decepticon. "If I find that you break your oath, old friend, I will hunt you down and destroy you," Starscream remarked smoothly, before his presence faded from perception completely.

His chin to his chest in defeat, Skyfire dimmed his optics completely. It wouldn't be the first time he omitted the truth to his peers in the past solar cycle.

On that thought, he wondered how Sandstorm was doing in Autobot City.

***

Autobot City

Oregon

Sol III/Earth

Bumblebee's keen blue optics missed very little, especially a newcomer whom he had never seen before.

The small yellow Autobot called out to the seemingly lost orange and black triplechanger with a simple "Hey, you!" before jogging towards him, across the lit courtyard. It was early evening; the sun had set, allowing the light from a waning winter moon to cast everything around the compound in a cool light.

"Hello there," the newcomer greeted, smiling broadly, as though he belonged here in the city. "Name's Sandstorm. I just came in from Cybertron with Skyfire." His face fell then, his optics widening. "What happened? He was showing me around one cycle, then he just abruptly left with that black femme."

"Let's just say we're getting it under control, Sandstorm. I'm Bumblebee, by the way," the little Autobot nodded, holding out his hand in gesture to shake Sandstorm's, which the triplechanger did. "So what brings you to Earth?"

"Well, I heard the Decepticons attacked you guys," Sandstorm answered carefully. Sure, tell them he stowed away, and pretty much flat out lied to Skyfire to get here...that would be really smooth. "They attacked my homeworld about a decacycle ago, and I needed to find out if the two events are connected."

To this, Bumblebee granted Sandstorm a sympathetic expression.

"I'm sorry to hear that," the yellow Autobot bowed his head. "They're ruthless, and they've been getting worse with desperation around here, not to mention weirder." With a slight however disbelieving chuckle, Bumblebee regarded Sandstorm once more. "We've captured their spymaster and a few others, but their leader's still at large-"

The sudden shouts from the guard posts at the gate brought the two Autobots to high alert. Bright high beams from a rather large tractor trailer truck flooded the immediate area, temporarily blinding Sandstorm and Bumblebee.

And it looked like that truck had no intention of stopping.

"Decepticon!" one of the guards hollered as the alert klaxon blared.

*

The door to the city commander's office slid closed behind her, as the gloss black femme crossed her arms over her chest in a huff.

"Well, that went worse than expected," she growled to herself, just before stumbling forward as Jazz collided hard with her from rounding a corner too fast. Being the cool gentleman that he was, the white and black Autobot caught her arm as to help her balance, somewhat unnecessarily.

"You had us worried for a bit, there, Art," Jazz stated. "You sure you're yourself again? I mean, we don't want no more Poltergeist slag going on, y'dig?"

Glancing back at the door she had just emerged from, she gave a bit of a snort at what had transpired within. "Oh, I'm all me again," she retorted, however darkly. "Pissed off, but at least I'm me."

"I hope the man wasn't too hard on you...I mean, come on, that was deep slag you got pulled into...come to think of it, I hope Skyfire's good too. Damn, too much weird slag going down, y'dig?"

"You got that right, Jazz," Artemis agreed with a grumble, walking off.

Jazz watched her for a short moment before catching up with her, matching her stride.

"Look, babe, he ain't gonna come 'round here no more," he assured. "Damn, even Magnus knows now you weren't working on your own volition. I mean, way he laid the heroics to save you-"

"Don't remind me, Jazz," she warned. "I don't want to think about it."

For a cycle, the cheerful Autobot remained silent.

"Art, what happened in there?" he questioned, indicating with a nod over his shoulder.

"We had a fight, what else is new?"

"Well, the fact that if it was a normal fight, you would have used this as a perfect excuse to tease Mags. Instead, you're moping. Something happened." Jazz held out his hands defensively. "Look, Art, I've known you since you were spyin' for us when the Great War started. You've got rather blatant habits that I can pick out pretty easily. Like, for instance, the practical jokes on Magnus."

Furrowing her brow, she stopped in her tracks, glaring at the slightly shorter male.

"Like I said, you have habits. Especially when it deals with him." With a deft chuckle, Jazz added, "Don't worry. Your secret's safe with me."

The hallway suddenly flared red as the emergency signal rang out loud. As the two stared at one another as if asking if the other knew what was going, the door to Ultra Magnus's office slid quickly open and the city commander raced out, a rather angry expression on his face.

"What's-" Jazz managed to eek out before Ultra Magnus took hold of Artemis's right shoulder and practically yanked her with him.

"Hey, easy there! What's going on, soldier?" she demanded curtly as Jazz took up the rear.

"We've got a gate crasher," he stated bluntly. "A Decepticon just drove through full speed and then simply surrendered, but he won't speak to anyone. We need a negotiator."

"And you want me to do the dirty work, how charming," she grumbled, finally picking up step as she shook off his grip. "Fine. Did he say at least why he's here?"

"He asked for asylum, but that's about it."

"Ah, another defector," she rebutted with a mock joy as they exited the main building out to the courtyard, where a gathering of Autobots stood around a single, tall black and violet Decepticon with long, slender wings. From Magnus's point of view, he was quite talkative as the Decepticon's optics remained on Arcee.

At this moment, Artemis's face brightened considerably before she issued a sharp laugh. "Octane, you magnificent bastard!" she called out. The entire group's attention snapped towards her as she jogged towards the tall Decepticon.

"Arty! Oh, I knew it was a good day to play with Galvie's mind!" he cheered, ignoring the weapons tracked on him as he caught her in a bear hug. "Mind if I feel you up?"

"Not in public," she rifled back, before pulling away from him. "Octane, I heard what you did with Trypticon."

"I know, wasn't it bitching?" he chortled. "And I almost got away with it if it wasn't for Cyclonus aiming for my gas tank." Nodding with a large, almost goofy grin on his face, he added, "times like that, it sucks being an oil tanker. Anywho, introduce your friends to me? Or shall I just continue flirting with the cuties?"

"Why am I not surprised you know this guy?" Rodimus questioned the black femme.

"This is Octane," she explained simply. "He'd betray the Decepticons for a pin-up poster."

"What can I say? I’m a sucker for curves." Octane threw an arm around Artemis's shoulder. "And you just have to admit, some gals can really look damn fine when packing, you know what I mean?"

"So why is he here?" Ultra Magnus demanded, clearly annoyed.

"What part of 'boss trying to kill me' don't you understand?" Octane snapped. "I took off with Trippy, Cyclonus caught up, tried to kill me, I got the hell outta Kelowna. Hey, does anyone know where I can call up the Association for the Prevention of Cruelty to Transforming Cities? They're starving that poor boy!"

"I don't know why, but I'm actually beginning to like this dude," Jazz commented lightly as Magnus stepped forward as to deal with the situation himself.

"Easy, big guy," Rodimus held up his hand. "Granted, if it wasn't for Octane here, Galvatron might have made short work of Portland or some other human settlement...or even Autobot City."

"And all I'm asking for is that you save my skidplate from getting vaped by the high and mighty nutcase," Octane held up his hands in front of him, palms out, showing he was unarmed. "I'll do just about anything...hell, I'd even be a personal slave to one of these lovely ladies you have in your ranks!"

"That's four now," Avalanche stated aloud, more to herself than anything. "Galvatron's banished his three triple-changers, as well as Thundercracker."

"I know that voice!" Octane snapped his fingers, pointing to Avalanche. "You're one of Darxtar's gals! You know what happened to Thundy, beautiful? Tell me you know what happened to him."

"He and Astrotrain have been employed by Four Winds, Inc." the red and black "Autobot" stated professionally. "By rules of asylum in accordance to the Codex of Proprietorship and Privateering, for exchange of protection from former employers, especially those who had wished ill on defected employees, they are to work in our services until deemed safe for their return, or they choose to stay with the protecting company."

"Good ol' Sirians!" Octane cheered. "I knew I could count on them and their rules and regs!"

Internally, Artemis breathed a sigh of relief. Thundercracker was safe, at least for now.

"You guys really have a taste for rules and regulations, don't you?" Rodimus demanded in rhetoric.

"Makes the universe go 'round," Avalanche replied.

"So where are the Decepticons now?" the young leader then questioned the rogue Decepticon.

"About twenty kilometers northwest of Kelonwa, British Columbia, off Highway 97," Octane explained swiftly. "At least that's where I left Trypticon. That was almost-" he counted his fingers, "-ten megacycles ago. I'll tell you this, tho: Trippy's running low on fuel, so I don't know if they're going to get too far."

"Why did they attack Earth?" Springer demanded, obviously irritated by Octane’s antics.

"Damned if I know what was going on in Galvie's insane little processor. He just up and said, 'We take Autobot City tonight!' and the next thing I know, everyone's cheering. Me, I thought it was suicide, but no one ever listens to the dude in the back. Personally, I think desperation sank in. Fact of the matter is, the Decepticons are a joke now, thanks to Galvatron. Frig, there comes a point in a guy's life where you just have to say to yourself, 'might as well go where the femmes are' and just go, you know? I figure better in an Autobot brig than a Decepticon morgue, eh? Just one request, that I get a really curvy femme prison guard with a nightstick..."

"Trust me, you get used to this," Artemis shook her head with a smirk at Rodimus's confused expression.

"Octane, do you know anything about the attacks on Seti VIII?" Avalanche questioned bluntly.

"Seti VIII? Well, besides being the first place I would have gone to hide from His Royal Lunatic...attack? Who would attack that ice ball?"

"From what we can tell, other Decepticons," Artemis retorted.

Octane shivered melodramatically. "Come on, Arty, you know damn well ol' Thunderwing wouldn't have anything to do with Galvatron, let alone attacking any type of settlement-"

"Darxtar is already looking into that avenue, but so far, signs are pointing to a new splinter group," Avalanche explained.

"So there's other Decepticons to worry about besides Galvatron's group?" Rodimus demanded.

"There's one recluse group on Cygnus VII who, like the lad said, will not have anything to do with Cybertron's civil war," Kup stated. "Thunderwing had opposed Megatron during the start of the Great War, and rather than balk, he and his group simply up and left. They've been pretty quiet for a good eight million stels."

"We have trade with them," Avalanche revealed. "They have no interest in expanding anything save their mercantile, only to be allowed their independence and solitude."

"Can we be sure they're not the ones attacking these planets?" It was the newcomer, Sandstorm, who brought up this question.

"As I said, we've got one of our operatives checking into the situation with the Pretenders," the Four Winds Autobot answered truthfully.

"Who's the new dude?" Jazz then demanded, pointing exclusively to Sandstorm.

"He came with Skyfire from Cybertron," Bumblebee jumped to the defensive.

"Does he have clearance to be here?" Magnus brought up blatantly.

"Hey, isn't this supposed to be about me?" Octane demanded with a whine.

"Can we pick a crisis and stick with it?" Artemis mumbled, hiding her face.

"I was just about to say that," Rodimus agreed, however dryly. "All right, folks, as you were. Magnus, do you think you and Art could deal with Octane without killing one another in the process?"

Jazz could not help but chuckle quietly, only to receive a warning glare from the former mercenary. Innocently, he shrugged with a wide smile.

"Yeah, no problem," Artemis answered before Magnus could protest.

"Good. As for the new guy, Sandstorm, right?" Flipping a thumb towards Ultra Magnus, he adressed the orange and black Autobot exclusively. "Don't mind him, he's a stickler for rules sometimes. Welcome to Autobot City. You came at a rather...well, 'weird' doesn't begin to describe what's going on...anyway, it's been a weird day. Skyfire obviously must have been leading you around before-"

"Before he went off with Artemis," Sandstorm pointed to the black femme walking on the right side of the Decepticon; to the left, Ultra Magnus did not seem amused at the conversation Octane and Artemis had decided to discuss.

"Well, Artemis wasn't exactly herself today, from what we gathered," Rodimus chuckled weakly, almost nervously, before covering his face with a hand. "I just hope Skyfire is all right...we couldn't do anything to help him."

"What's going on?"

"Long story involving a jerk who won't stay dead. Even I have a hard time believing it if I hadn't seen it happen myself."

*

"I tell you, Arty, it ain't no fun any more," Octane remarked to the femme at his right. "Everyone's gotten so serious. Used to be that someone screwed up, we'd laugh at and ridicule them mercilessly, Megatron threatened them not to do it again, and of course you know damn well they would, then all is forgiven and we do something else. Now, it's like you stumble forward and you get blasted. Uh-uh, this handsome mug ain't gonna end up like that, no way."

"Does he ever shut up?" Ultra Magnus questioned dryly.

"Hell no," Artemis smirked. "It's his way of distraction."

Octane nodded enthusiastically. "So what about you, Stiff? My gal here hasn't gotten you to loosen up? Dammit, Arty, you're not doing your job..."

"Magnus isn't really up to jokes," The femme hissed, a warning.

"No slot," Octane grumbled, frowning melodramatically. "You know, big guy, you're going to wear down your gears if you let stress run you-"

"Is there any way to shut him up?" Magnus then demanded to the former mercenary, almost pleadingly.

"Short of killing me, no." Leaning up against the city commander who was almost equal height with the triplechanger, Octane glanced up at the rigid soldier. "Honestly, I'm worth more alive than dead-whoa!"

Pitching forward, Octane fell flat on his face with a loud slam before coasting down a steep stairwell head-first, landing in a heap at the foot of the stairs.

Both Autobots stared down at the Decepticon in pain, each with a different expression.

"Mind the steps," Magnus rebutted stoically.

"Watch where you're going next time, Oc," Artemis shook her head, descending the stairs with Magnus right behind her. "You really should get your gyros checked out sometime."

"Had nothing to do with my gyros! I tripped, that's all. Didn't see the stairs, you know...damn, did that smart...so where are we going, huh? Can I see your room, Arty? I'll sleep on the couch, or maybe the chair...how about your recharge bed? You won't even know I'm there...well, that's a lie, because you and I both know what I’d be --" A stern glare from the city commander shut him up, at least momentarily.

"And you survived the Decepticon ranks...how?" Magnus grumbled, annoyed, picking up the rogue roughly by the arm.

"Pure talent of making myself useful without firing a shot," Octane, rather than resist, in fact used the Autobot to stand straight, leaning heavily against him. "Okay, so I'm the only one fitted to carry crude oil, but that's now besides the point. So let me guess, I'm sleeping in lockup tonight, eh?"

"Until we figure out what to do with you," Magnus answered with a nod.

Turning to Artemis, Octane added, "And I suppose you have no say in these things, eh?"

"Nope," she shook her head, apologetically.

"Damn," Octane snapped his fingers, returning his gaze on Magnus. "So can I at least get my request on the prison guard granted?"

"What the hell were you thinking, you idiot?"

Motormaster's sharp demand jarred Octane out of needling of the city commander as now the hallway of the brig lit up, exposing the cells lining each side. The forcefield on each of the occupied cells glowed a slight blue, otherwise nigh invisible. The first three cells on the right were Stunticons: Motormaster in the first one, Dragstrip and Wild Ride in the middle, with Dead End and Breakdown in the following. They all looked like they barely survived a car wreck, especially Dragstrip, who was still moaning in the corner of his cell, crumpled in a heap that barely resembled a bipedal creature.

"Saving our skidplates from Galvatron, buddy," Octane retorted in stride, "though I hate to say you couldn't save your own against a little Autobot girl, from what I heard..."

This animated the remaining Stunticons, who all protested loudly of the situation, save, of course, Dragstrip, who only mewed weakly. The protests and insults only grew in volume as they all noticed Artemis.

"You revolutionized-erm, extradited-erm..." Snapping his fingers, Breakdown tried to insult the femme out of anger, but could not seem to grasp the word he was searching for.

"'Betrayed?'" Dead End suggested in a nigh bored voice.

"Damn straight she did!" Motormaster slammed his fist into the forcefield, sending a fury of sparks rippling along the surface.

"I don't recall ever swearing allegiance to you, Motormaster," Artemis retorted swiftly, passing the cells without visually regarding their contents. "Nor do I remember you swearing allegiance to anyone, for that matter."

Heading towards the end of the hallway, away from the exchange of words between the Stunticons, Octane, and Ultra Magnus attempting to order silence, she squatted before the last cell on the right, her arms crossed over her knees.

"How's he doing, boys?" she questioned softly.

Rumble and Frenzy both glanced up at her as though they had not been aware of her entrance. Soundwave, slumped against the wall, had the look of a half-awareness surrounding him as he absently patted Ravage's head in his lap. Laserbeak and Buzzsaw were perched on either of their master's shoulder, with Ratbat keeping vigil from one of the support struts on the ceiling. Stranger still was the final cassette, the little reptile Overkill, hopping around his brothers, making questioning growls and chirps towards Rumble and Frenzy.

"He ain't good, Art," Rumble stated bluntly. "He knows we're here, but...it's like he ain't there, you know? There's something in there that's keeping him from connecting with the outside world."

"That 'something' could be Unicron," Artemis sighed, bowing her head onto her arms. "Starscream's up to something that has to deal with Unicron as well."

"This god slag's really bugging the slot out of us," Frenzy remarked as Overkill tugged on his brother's arm with a short, nearly useless appendage. After listening to the chirps and growls from the little spy cassette, Frenzy shook his head. "I said I don't know, Overkill."

"Will Galvatron try to reclaim Soundwave?" Artemis questioned earnestly.

"In the past, I would say yeah," Rumble nodded. "Now, I ain't sure. If he thinks the boss is too far gone, chances ain't good."

"For us, at least," Frenzy snarled, dejected.

With a sigh, Artemis brought her attention back to the spy cassettes.

"I'll talk to the others about getting someone in to see what they can do about Soundwave," she exclaimed. "How about you boys? How are you doing?"

The biped Decepticons shrugged simultaneously. "Dunno," Frenzy answered. "We won't let Mindsurge check us out, the sick bastard."

"We ain't had much trouble with the virus, if that's what you mean," Rumble added, "just kept dumping our temp files and electromagnetic sweeps seems to keep it from going nuts, I think."

"I'll see what I can do," she reassured, standing once more to join Magnus in leaving the brig. Already, Octane had begun entertaining himself by singing random drinking songs, off-tune, of course.

Rumble slumped against the wall of their cell, finding himself locked in the pleading optics of Overkill. Giving the little reptile robot a pat on his head, he exhaled a sharp breath.

"It's gonna be a long night," he commented lightly, as the hallway lights faded off.

*

"I think we need to go to high defensive, Magnus," Artemis stated firmly. So much for trying to avoid him. "Rumble and Frenzy aren't sure if Galvatron would try to reclaim Soundwave, and frankly, I don't think we can live with that chance. If they head up towards Yukon, they might find enough crude oil to power up Trypticon and swing back down here to get back at us."

When the city commander did not respond to her observation, rather than shutting up like she would have before, she pressed forward the case.

"We've got five of Galvatron's men plus his entire espionage team. That's a good chunk of their troops, and I'm not counting Octane. If they come straight here, they may bypass the human cities entirely, but to be sure of that, we should send out someone to scout in the case they deviate from-"

"Do you always think out loud?" Magnus demanded, somewhat agitated.

His demand halted her rambling, as she stared up at him wide-opticked.

"Only when I feel like I have something constructive to say," she answered truthfully, her optics dimming and brightening quickly as to blink.

By now, Artemis would have learned that meeting Ultra Magnus's glare caused blatant problems. However, that knowledge didn't stop her.

A full cycle passed before Magnus broke optic contact, storming past her.

"Your concern and suggestion has been noted," he stated formally, passing Jazz and Bumblebee in the hallway towards his office.

She abruptly realised he had let her win that round.

Artemis leaned up against the wall, lightly hitting it with the back of her head repeatedly.

"Dammit," she cursed softly with each strike.

"Is it cold in here or is it just me?" Jazz demanded with a grin.

"I'm missing something, aren't I?" Bumblebee questioned.

"Jazz, give me an order to do before I end up following him, please," Artemis commanded through a gritted expression, continuing on the assault of her brow against the wall.

"Why?" the smallest Autobot exclaimed, frustration creeping into his voice.

"Long story," Jazz fought another chuckle. "Actually, Avalanche was looking for you, Art. Why don'tcha fail a Berschel test and get some of that off your chest, y'dig?"

"Oh, there is a Primus," Artemis breathed a sigh of relief, pushing away from the wall and marching from the two other Autobots. "Thanks, Jazz."

"No prob, babe," he saluted, taking Bumblebee by the shoulder as he rounded a corner. Swiftly, he whispered something quick into the yellow Autobot's audio receptor.

Bumblebee's optics widened more than normal, staring at his old friend in disbelief.

"And the feeling's mutual, from what I gather, man," Jazz nodded with a huge smile. "Ain't that the slag?"

"I wouldn't believe it if it came from Optimus himself," Bumblebee stated, flabbergasted.

"Neither would I if I hadn't seen them myself."

"Seen what?"

Arcee had managed to sneak up on the two men rather quietly. Staring at the pink femme as though they had been caught leafing through a pin up magazine, Bumblebee finally spoke up, before Jazz could stop him.

"Jazz says Ultra Magnus and Artemis have a mutual crush going on," Bumblebee managed to blurt out just as Jazz clapped a hand over his friend's mouth, chuckling nervously.

"I told Art I wouldn't tell anyone, man!" Jazz hissed.

Of course, the news seemed to take Arcee by surprise anyway. She stepped back as though reeling from the information.

"And all this time I thought they couldn't stand each other," she commented.

"They can't," Jazz retorted a little too quickly.

"I'm not too sure," Springer joined the three from the main hallway. "I mean, they weren't doing their usual ignoring or snapping at each other tonight. Under the circumstances, sure, it might be just an odd coincidence, but then again, this entire day was pretty weird."

"That's just one more thing to the weirdness factor," Rodimus added. "Of course, Springer may be on the right track and it might just be stress from the events of the day, but-"

"What's going on?" Cavalier demanded, not even noticing Jazz's anguish cry as he hid his face with his hands.

"Magnus and Artemis have a crush on each other," Springer, Arcee, and Bumblebee replied unanimously.

The white and black Autobot was unusually quiet at this.

And then, she cackled maniacally, bolting from the group and down the hall, her laughter echoing through the base.

"Now the entire base knows," Jazz lamented. "I am so dead."

"Why?" asked the other Autobots in a collective voice.

"Because I told Art I wouldn't tell anyone."

Rodimus patted Jazz on the back. "Well, I only have one thing to say: nice knowing you."

"You know what, man? Bite me." With a trademark chuckle and a shake of his head, Jazz started down the hallway, after Cavalier. "I need to intercept a potentially hazardous situation."

"Oh, I think it's too late for that," Rodimus snickered, just before realisation sunk in, his expression growing somber. "Wow. That actually makes sense now."

"What?" Springer questioned.

"Nothing, just something that happened a while back," Rodimus waved his hand as to clear the subject. "Springer, round up Kup and meet me in the War Room. I want to discuss security measures."

"Face it, Rod, you just want to know if the rumour is true," Bumblebee pointed out.

"All right, I worry about the security of Autobot City, and Jazz can dig more about the rumour. Bumblebee, as you were."

"Pretend I'm doing something useful and goof off?"

"Just don't have too much fun doing it, or Magnus might get mad," Rodimus retorted as he and Springer left Arcee and Bumblebee in the hallway.

"Oh, trust me, if Cav pulls what I think she's going to pull, he'd be too busy to notice me slacking." Bumblebee grinned widely.

"You don't think she would-" Arcee then corrected herself, hiding her face in her hands. "Oh, she would. She'll do anything to irritate Magnus."

"This should be fun to watch," Bumblebee fought a snicker.

"And if she gets caught?"

"You tell me, Arcee." His brow rose with his smile, his statement in rhetoric. "You've known her longer than I have."

"She'll get caught," the pink femme retorted in a monotone.

"She's a revolutionist. Of course she'll get caught. But she had made her point. And there's always one thing she counts on when she does get caught."

"Her friends," Arcee stated with a slight nod.

"Exactly. Speaking of which, I think I'm going to try salvaging Jazz's reputation, and I think I know exactly how to do it."

*

"Somebody's got a crush..."

Of all the things Minerva Ryder could say upon seeing her friend and employee, she had to mention that in a low, sing-song voice.

Artemis glared at the red and black transector, a warning, as she crossed the courtyard to the shadow of the  _ Shrike's Cry _ .

"I don't see where it's any of your business," she rifled back as Minerva laughed aloud.

"It's called progress, dear; one thing's for certain, your old man would be happy to hear it." Clapping a hand on Artemis's right shoulder, she added, "You've always fell for the ones who piss you off; you do know that, don't you?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"You won't like to talk about the other subject either, Art."

"It's Starscream, isn't it?" The true Autobot growled.

"He's taken off with Skyfire, Art. He's bent on getting a new shell, even if it means making a deal with Unicron to do it."

"I know."

"So you were aware when he took control of your shell."

"I remember every damn thing that bastard made me do," the black femme snarled, clenching her fist. "Including throwing me off a building." She fell silent for a few clicks before adding, "we need to help Skyfire."

"Iacon's dealing with that now," Minerva assured, her hand still on Artemis's arm for comfort. "It's out of our hands and in Elita One's. Right now, we need to concern ourselves with two other matters."

"The Quintessons and these new Decepticons."

"Exactly. Raff sent Brin out on a recon run on the Decepticons here; I don't think they'll be too much of a problem at this point."

"Has anyone seen Ritter?"

"Probably out keeping an optic on the Quints," the human remarked. "I figure the reason why we're not hearing anything from them is because Ritterkruez's keeping them occupied. Look, Art, I also want to tell you that Brin's sticking around Autobot City for a little bit; Raff and I have some matters to attend to here on Earth."

"Why?"

"Remember those dudes your buddy Airstrike squashed? The ones who destroyed my Roadrunner and almost vaped Thundercracker as well?"

"Those humans you said couldn't leave Earth yet they did, yeah."

"I'm going to get to the bottom of that." Minerva's voice took an angry dive. "I'm not comfortable with knowing they can leave the planet."

"I don't know very many people who are, Minnie."

"You know what else I'm not comfortable with?" With a hard exhale, the transector turned away from her friend. "These Nebulons. How did they get connected with the Sidhe? I'm still trying to figure that out. EDC has no account of Nebulon activity prior to the incident almost a year ago, when the Nebs tried to claim Luke."

"What about on a ship with a crew of mixed species?" Artemis questioned.

"Possible, however unlikely. Nebulons are recluses, generally. It's a good start, I'll grant you that." Bowing her head, she added, "I'd feel more comfortable dealing with the Sidhe if I had an equal standing with them. To the Baen Sidhe, I'm a slave; to the Dao Sidhe, I'm a traitor."

"I know that feeling, Min," the Autobot snorted. "Best thing to do is to concentrate on what's right and attempt to concentrate on that goal. I'm just learning that myself."

"You found your anchor, didn't you?" Minerva questioned, her smile sympathetic and genuine.

"What do you mean?"

"It's an expression. It means you found something...or someone...to anchor you to one place. Finding your niche, so to speak." With a laugh, Minerva, in a human gesture, hugged her friend. "You're right, sweetie. You're so very right. You take care, you hear?"

"You too. If you need back-up-"

"-I know exactly who to call." Pulling away from the embrace, Minerva turned her head to the  _ Shrike's Cry.  _ "Raff, prepare to depart, stealth mode. And you," she directed over Artemis's shoulder, "if you hurt her in any way, it comes out of your skidplate, understood?"

Artemis turned around, expecting to see Kup; she kept her surprise in check when she discerned it was, in fact, Ultra Magnus.

"Catch you later, Art," Minerva saluted. "And Magnus, if you want to pawn off some of those 'Cons in your brig, let us know. We have use for the defectors."

"I'll keep that in mind," Ultra Magnus stated coolly as the transector marched back into the bay of the Sirian Interceptor. The two Autobots walked away from the ship as it prepared for lift off.

"They'll be back later," she stated, as though making conversation, "they had other matters to attend to. Brin will return here after her scouting mission."

_ Do not make optic contact,  _ she repeated mentally.  _ Do not make optic contact... _

"The Aerialbots are scouting central British Columbia," he revealed, "as per your suggestion. We're moving up to a code blue security until we receive word from Silverbolt."

"Any word from Skyfire?" She waited about twenty clicks before adding a dejected "I didn't think so."

"I'm sorry."

"It wasn't anything we could do to stop him. " Bringing her attention back to watch the  _ Shrike's Cry  _ lift off into the night, Artemis crossed her arms over her chest, defensive, angry. Until that day, she had never been vulnerable, and the feeling of no longer being in control of her own shell was unnerving, frightening, and, above all, helpless.

_ Bury it, Arty, _ she ordered inwardly.  _ Bury it, forget it, just walk away. _

Large hands engulfed her shoulders; it was then she became aware she was in fact shaking. Anger? Dread? She felt all that and more.

"We'll stop him," Magnus stated firmly. "I promise."

Helm shadowing her dimmed optics, she stood, unmoving.

_ Bury it deep...let the hatred fester...let it become strength to destroy that bastard... _

"Let me go," she hissed, her voice hollow.

"Not this time."

"This is unlike you."

It was her only verbal warning, for then she turned sharply, pulling out of his hold before thrusting her fist upwards for an uppercut. The attack came as a surprise, of course, as he stepped back to avoid a true hit. Had he been smaller, the punch would have in fact sent him reeling back with serious repercussions to his neck.

"Artemis, what-" He barely managed to get her name out before she spun with a backhanded fist, once again aimed for his head. Blocking it easily with his lower arm, he attempted to lock her wrist, but couldn't pull off the maneuver in time, before she backed up, bringing her right arm up in a bar defense, her left behind her as though preparing another punch.

_ What in the name of Primus was she doing?  _ Logically, he would have figured that she would know better than to aim for his head; his height caused her to overextend her attacks.

"I don't need anyone," she growled, her cold blue optics betraying the torrent of emotion she was fighting. "Least of all you."

"By attacking me, what do you hope to accomplish?" he snapped, now angry.

"You're making this extremely difficult for both of us," she rifled back.

"I get it now. This is your 'piss him off to get him to avoid me' tactic, isn't it?" Now, he had grown sardonic, taking a heavy step forward. "I should just throw you in the brig and get it over with."

"To get away from you, sure, sounds great!" Executing a vertical axe kick that barely missed his chin, she pulled back, changing her stance to a more side-kick ready position.  _ Telegraphing her attacks?  _ It was clear she had no intention of actually physically hurting him, just trying to get her point across.

Another step forward, and he found her heel mere centimeters from his exposed neck. Even with a long kick reach, she still had to strain for the position, not to mention holding it, balancing precariously on the heel of her other foot.

"I don't think we're finished talking yet," he finally exclaimed after a near half-cycle.

Folding her leg at the knee before pulling it back fully, she stood down her sparring, her gaze locked on her feet.

"Give me one reason why I shouldn't detain you for this stunt," he demanded, his voice seeming louder than normal in the still night.

"I can't think of one," she retorted, a little too quickly.

"Unfortunately, I can." Standing almost over her, he crossed his arms over his chest, his anger still lacing his optics. "Rodimus and Kup are right; your knowledge, skills, and connections are crucial right now. Avoiding one another isn't going to do any good at this point. We have two, potentially three, and quite possibly four enemy factions to deal with. You can do one of two things: go on your own, or cooperate. And from what I understand from your contract with Four Winds, by walking out on us, you're pretty much severing ties with your former employees." Cupping her chin, he brought her gaze to his. "And if you walk, you might as well not bother coming back here, either."

In the past, she envied Minerva's ability to cry; not now, for tears would have been steaming during the melee.

_ Primus, why couldn't you just let me live my life without complications? _

Her silent question, of course, went unanswered, although she had wished for an answer, nonetheless.

In three clicks, she transformed into her vehicle mode, the heavy engine roaring out before popping the clutch, fishtailing through the gears as friction smoke billowed from her wide tires. In ten, she had already reached the gate, her headlights casting angry shadows against the concrete and steel; in twenty, her brake-lights flashed on.

She had simply gone outside the city gate to think.

"Don't take too long, Artemis," Ultra Magnus suggested softly, before trudging across the courtyard to the main complex.

Had the two quarrelling Autobots noticed anything outside their immediate perception, they probably would have found a group of four other Autobots watching the scenario with various degrees of confusion.

"So it's not as cut and dry..." Cavalier, first on the scene, noted, squatting in the shadows. Over her was Jazz, one hand on her shoulder as if to keep her from causing any more trouble. Tracks had joined them out of sheer curiosity, from what Cavalier had told him, and, trailing the group, Bumblebee.

"Ouch, harsh," Jazz agreed. "I think we've stumbled on the mother lode of explosives, dudes."

"And here I was thinking it was simple boy troubles," Tracks sighed melodramatically.

"This goes beyond that, I think," Bumblebee stated. "Jazz is right, though. This will get messy if they keep doing this slag."

"So teasing is out of the question," Cavalier grumbled, disappointed. "Help me out here, boys. I'm drawing blanks."

"Didn't anyone tell you not to meddle in other people's relationships?" Bumblebee rapped his knuckles against Cavalier's helm.

"Would that stop her?" Jazz then pointed out with a smirk.

"I'll tell you what I see," Tracks huffed. "If those two don't work things out between them, they're sure to kill one another in the process."

"So what are you suggesting, my man?" Jazz demanded.

"We find a way to get them together," the Corvette Autobot stated matter-of-factly.

"Right," his three companions agreed, only to have Cavalier retract her vote quickly.

"No!" she corrected, her words quick, her voice loud. "That's, like, totally wrong, bro! Why? Let me count the ways!"

Unfortunately, there was no way to clamp a hand over her mouth as she started on one of her galaxy famous rants.

"First off, chick was with the 'Cons. Problem. I got no problem if they've got cutesy little crushes and slag, but frig, keep it professional, people! Second, you don't need to be a strategist to see the problem with Deceptichick checking the City Commander's oil-"

"Oh, good Primus..." Bumblebee rolled his optics and decided that it was no longer safe near the loudmouthed Autobot. "Let's get out of here..."

"I'm with you, Bee," Tracks agreed whole-heartedly as the two stood to leave.

"Damn, girl, keep your voice down!" Jazz hissed, glancing out to the courtyard, only to notice the person in question had paused from returning to the command center and was in fact looking in their direction. "Slag!"

"Oh, run, you cowards," Cav growled, crossing her arms over her chest. "Someone's gotta stand up for what's right around here!"

"You're a braver bot than I, sister." Clapping a hand over her shoulder, Jazz stood with her. "Though if you want my opinion, you're a little too reckless sometimes."

"What's life without risk?" she smirked, surprising Jazz by marching right up to Ultra Magnus without fear and pointed an accusing finger at his nose. Before she could say anything, however, the city commander took her wrist firmly and bore the full weight of his gaze down at the much smaller Autobot.

"I am not in the mood right now, Cavalier," he punctuated through a gritted expression.

Snatching her arm away, she would not balk from his glare.

"Neither am I, but some things need to be said,  _ capisce _ ?" she snarled.

"That's it." Taking hold of her arm, Magnus half-dragged her to the command center. "You're not going to gain anything by trying my patience."

"Why not, it seems to be working for the Con!" She retorted.

He stopped in front of the records storage, swinging her around to face him.

"Your brashness is going to get you into trouble, and one day Rodimus won't be there to help you."

"You just don't like the fact you don't intimidate me," she rifled back with a snide tone.

Slamming his fist into the control panel by the door, he set his jaw. She did not flinch, nor did he expect her to. As the door slid open with a hiss, he pointed into the room. "For the next ten megacycles, you're going to back up all records from 1984 to present. I want no mistakes. If it's not done tonight, then you'll finish it tomorrow, understood?"

"I ain't a records clerk," she protested.

"You are tonight." Herding her into the unkempt room, he then thumbed the glyph, closing the sliding door. Another clank from the electromagnetic lock gave warning that she was, in fact, trapped there.

"You can't do this to me!" she shouted, her sharp audio sensors listening in on his footsteps as they regressed away from her imprisonment. "You bastard!" With a sharp kick to the door, she pivoted, then examined the haphazard pile of old DAT tapes and disks. Technically, this was no man's land; only the upper heads had access to these. Of course, compiling the data was dull and tedious, so the task was rarely done. However, the last time Cavalier was under Ultra Magnus's command, back on Beta Cybertronia, every time she pissed him off, he would send her to compile records, if only to get rid of her.

A low chuckle emanated from her throat.

"Right where I want to be," she whispered quietly, before activating her communications. "Jazz, it's Cav."

_ "Yo, sister, you okay?" _

" _ Viva la revolucion _ . I'm going to need a case of V-7 delivered to Record Room 4-Theta. It's going to be a long night for me."

_ "I'll see what I can do. He wasn't too mean on you, was he?" _

"Oh, no, not at all. Thanks, bro."

_ "No prob! Jazz out." _

Lacing her fingers together and cracking her knuckles, she booted up the computer, pulling out more modern SSDs for backing up. Sure, she would do the job-after all, she was given an order. But at the same time, as she was backing up Terran Year 1984 AD, all on really old magnetic tape and disks, she had, in another monitor, searching older laser discs, the year 2002 AD, for criteria involving Grimlock and his memories.

Humming the Mission Impossible theme, she sat in the chair, one leg folded underneath her, the other propped up on the edge of the chair, preparing for a night of multitasking.

*

British Columbia, Canada

Highway 97

It was one of those nights that, although it was brisk, if one was to see a motorcycle speeding along, it wasn't thought too much of.

Of course, the motorcycle in question was not of human make. Sleek and matte black, with gold and blue highlights, ever so faint, it looked like it could have been a concept for a new Japanese crotch rocket model. The rider was actually partially concealed; arms and legs encased inside the cycle, a partial roof swooped over the back, granting about a foot space between the windshield and the roof and enough clearance for the rider to dismount without seriously bumping one's head. It seemed a little too heavy for a crotch-rocket, however, somewhat bulky in its sleekness, like a melanistic jaguar ready to pounce.

The driver was very much female, clad in leather, but definitely not human, with a black lupine face and one gold eye, one blue eye.

Brin married to the Clan of the Shadow, head guildmistress of Northstar, the Four Winds assassins and spies, was on a mission.

Travelling in excess of 200 kilometers per hour, she had nothing to worry from mounties with speed detectors due to her motorcycle's sensor reflector; good thing, too, because her intergalactic driver's license was still on her bureau at Four Winds.

Five miles from Okanagan Lake, she slowed down her motorcycle and pulled out a pair of high-powered binoculars; peering through, she zoomed through the night vision settings. A digital image of Canadian military milling about, obviously not knowing what to do in this situation, caused a sardonic smirk on her muzzle.

"Leave it to the professionals, kiddies," she chortled lowly, as she scanned the horizon, catching sight of Trypticon's communication tower. "That's right, big boy...rest easy."

Slipping the 'nocs back into their compartment at her right, she dismounted, the motorcycle's panels around her arms and legs unlocking with a hydraulic hiss as they pushed away from her body. Walking a few paces away from the motorcycle, she then whispered, "Garotte, transform."

Unlike other Sirian transectors, Garotte could not transform with a rider inside. That was the only downside, in Brin's mind. Extremely fast, maneuverable and agile, it had enough armour to take quite a bit of punishment and still have enough power to dish quite a bit out when it needed to. However, Brin preferred the fact that Garotte was silent running and small; she could run circles around and dispatch larger transectors, like the ones Minerva or Raff piloted, quicker than they could get their weapons online. Another point different than the traditional, more androgynous Sirian builds, Garotte was most definitely a feminine design. Upon transforming, Garotte, now standing about fourteen feet tall, sank to one knee, its cockpit in its chest open, waiting for its operator. With a slight bounce to her step, Brin approached her 'tector, slipping into the control harness, launching necessary programs from the back-lit control panel. The cockpit canopy, consisting of her windshield now meeting with the former roof of the motorcycle, closed onto her; yet another difference with Garotte's model was that it was based on the archaic mobile suits Sirians used to fight with during their Dark Ages, one thousand stellar cycles prior, in that the arms and the legs were controlled in cooperation with the pilot, rather than the pilot using automatic controls. A little more of a workout, but doable. Her controls were more by memory than sight; she made herself know Garotte inside and out before taking it on missions.

A quick test of movement to make sure everything was nominal, the Sirian transector then bolted into the woods deftly, her footfalls as quiet as a wolf's run.

In two cycles, she came across two Cybertronians on guard at the wood's edge, one Sweep, the other a very familiar Combaticon.

In five clicks, she dispatched the Sweep easily, coming up behind it and leaping onto its back, pulling back from the forehead and thrusting a swift punch to the base of its neck. It crumpled in pain, without so much as a word, as she snapped out a long, thin blade from a sheath in her arm, stabbing it through the back and its fuel pump.

In the time the yellow and violet Combaticon, slightly taller than Garotte, realised what had transpired, she kicked away his gun, grabbed him by the throat, with her blade against his cheek.

"Call out, Swindle, and you're dead," she snarled bestially.

"Who...?"

"I'm doing the talking here," she chided, squeezing tighter around his throat. "You betrayed two of yours already. I'm giving you three choices, which is much more than you deserve. One is that you die by Galvatron in the very near future. Another is you to be free from Galvatron. The final is that you die by me right now. Choose."

"I like option B, thank you." he croaked.

"Good." Garotte loosened her grip. "Now, tell me, what is Galvatron up to?"

"For-"

"If you say 'for a price' or anything of that nature, it's option C," she warned.

"Okay, okay...tell you the truth, I'm not sure. He's keeping us out of everything, and that's including gestalt leaders. He's only talking to Scourge, Cyclonus, and, up until we lost him, Soundwave. I honestly don't know much more."

"Of course you know more," she retorted sweetly. "You hear everything, almost as well as Soundwave."

"Honest, I don't know-"

He was repaid by a tighter grip as the blade came closer.

"We don't have time for this, Swindle. I wonder what Galvatron would do if he found out you were part of the mutiny plan..."

"I'm-"

"And you think he will believe you if you deny it? He didn't believe Astrotrain."

Swindle found it very hard to swallow a gulp of air.

"I know they're going to try to get Soundwave back," he finally choked. "It could be tonight or tomorrow, I'm not sure."

"Suicide," she snorted.

Swindle gave a quick, nervous nod and mouthed "I know."

"One more thing before I leave," she leaned closer, pressing against him, not relinquishing her hold on him. "What do you know about Seti VIII?"

"Besides it's an out of the way oil field? Not much. Why?"

"Does Galvatron have any use for it?"

"If it was much closer to Charr, hell yeah. At least he figured that much out."

"I thought so." Retracting her blade, Garotte gave Swindle a quick peck on the cheek. "Good boy."

With a quick thrust of her hand, she slammed her palm into the Combaticon's forehead, triggering a low end electromagnetic pulse through his systems. He fell back, twitching, unable to focus where he was.

Giving a cursory scan of the makeshift Decepticon base, she stuck to the shadows, infiltrating Trypticon's city mode swiftly.

She still needed more information.

***

Cybertron

Iacon Defense Hub

"What are we doing here?"

Thundercracker's tone of urgency went unnoticed by Darxtar as the older Decepticon piloted  _ Little Revenge _ into Cybertronian space.

"Iacon Defense, this is  _ Little Revenge  _ of Four Winds. Request permission from Elita One to land. Tell her Darxtar needs to speak with her, over."

"Old man, you're going to get us killed!" the blue and white Seeker hissed, his red optics wide in fear. The rust-trimmed bartender only waved his hand apathetically, a warning for Thundercracker to keep quiet.

_ " _ Little Revenge,  _ this is Iacon Defense. You have clearance to land on docking platform 7. Over." _

"Thank you, Iacon.  _ Little Revenge  _ out." Snapping off the communications, Darxtar then turned to the younger Decepticon, who was staring at him with wide optics full of horror.

"Elita is a sweetheart, you don't worry about her," Darxtar chortled, stretching his arms over his head. "Don't worry about a thing, kid. You ain't gonna be hurt if you stick with me."

"In case you've forgotten, we're Decepticons. We lost Cybertron, remember? We were banished, remember?"

"I'm neutral, remember?" Darxtar retorted. "There's a lot you don't know yet, kid. I'll fill you in later."

"Fill me in now, Darxtar," Thundercracker ordered, almost surprising the semi-retired mercenary. "And if you're unclear of what 'war criminal' means, let me know and I'll tell you."

The older Decepticon chuckled, shaking his head.

"Nice to see you've gained some more confidence, boy," he exclaimed proudly. "All right, I'll tell you the short version now. When Artemis went to the Autobots, we agreed to allow her to stay, and by doing that, we technically chose a side. In other words, employees of Four Winds have trader's immunity to and from Cybertron. Of course, that doesn't negate the fact their security will be heightened anyway."

"So where does that leave me?"

"You're my employee. If they give you flak, they can take it up with me. The thing is, it goes both ways." Darxtar's normally good natured expression grew serious as his one remaining optic narrowed dangerously. "If you do so much as antagonize a door droid, you're on your own, understood?"

"'Antagonize?' Me?" With a snort, Thundercracker sunk into his seat and crossed his arms over his canopy. "Old man, I lost my sense of humour when Skywarp died. Right now, I just want to stay alive." Returning his gaze to the window, where the Iacon spaceport was now visible as they crossed the terminator into the night side of Cybertron, he added, "and coming back here when it's under enemy control isn't exactly comforting."

"Don't worry, kid; I've got you covered," Darxtar clapped a hand on the Seeker's shoulder in reassurance.

"I hope you're right, old man," Thundercracker rumbled.

*

By Cybertronian standards, the sky blue Autobot male was a handsome sort, with a smooth smile and a flirtatious wink.

Moonracer, however, was not affected by Apollo's charm as he followed her to the control station. Lately, he brooded inwardly, his charm wasn't working for anyone. Frustrating, yes, but he wasn't going to give up that easily.

To the light blue femme's relief, Chromia called Apollo down for security detail on Spacedock 7.

After a chivalrous bow, Apollo left her side and ventured down the hall, only to meet up with Elita-One, her brow furrowed in what seemed to be confusion.

"Ma’am, what is it?" he questioned sincerely. The Cybertron leader's head snapped up, as just becoming aware that she had company, before shaking her head quickly.

"It's nothing, Apollo," she rebutted, a little too swiftly. "Just a lot on my mind."

"Nothing I could do to help? Sure?"

"I'm positive, Apollo; thank you, however, for your concern-"

_ "Elita," _ Chromia's voice rang out again through the intercom,  _ "It's Skyfire. He wants permission to return to Cybertron and talk with you. He sounds extremely shaken up." _

"Grant him permission and have Warpath escort him to the conference room; I'll talk to him there." Her posture shifted back into the cool, confident and level-headed leader Apollo recognized. "Apollo, you have a duty to attend to."

"Yes, ma'am!" he saluted, granting her a broad smile before pivoting on his heel and resuming his trek to the docking areas. He met up with one of the dock workers, a short green and black femme, before exiting to the outer court.

"Hey, gorgeous," Apollo greeted her, "Who's coming to visit that requires security detail?"

"Cut the slag, Apollo," Destiny grumbled, giving him a slight shove away. "Four Winds ship, too small to be a cargo transport, unless he's hauling weapons and ammo. Guy piloting is Polyhex-built, and Chromia got her red-flag waving...you know how it goes. Better safe than sorry, especially if he's got other 'Cons with him."

"Do you know who this guy is?"

"Dark Star or something like that."

"Hey, Darxtar! Yeah, I know of him!" Apollo snapped his fingers.

"You and Elita seem to be the only ones." Arching a brow over one green optic, she then questioned, "Who is he, anyway?"

"I'm not entirely sure," Apollo admitted, sheepishly. "I've heard his name thrown around after the Great War, but other than he's a neutral party, I don't know much else."

"Aren't you helpful?" Destiny grinned.

"Give me about a half sol, sweetheart, and I'll find out all you want about him and more, but other than that, your guess is as good as mine."

"You desk jockeys are all the same," she shoved him again before they joined up with a small crowd of Autobots, outside the loading zone of the space dock, surrounding a number "7" in Cybertronian script. Above them was a small, Cybertronian transport hovered, moving into position slowly over the dock zone.

Of course, they were unaware of the true threat looming over them, not in the ship; a presence with no physical form, but of the ultimate in mortal evil lying within an immortal spark.

_ "'Dies, nox, et omnia michi sunt contraria,'"  _ the spectre quoted to himself. "But since when would I let that get in my way?"

Fate had dealt him an odd hand, and now he needed to figure out how to play it.

"Ah, Unicron, it seems I am more evil than you," Starscream chortled to himself as he allowed patience to settle in, watching as the  _ Little Vengeance _ land solidly. "Your cause has a trace of nobility, as you fight entropy. You attempt to stop the destruction of chaos, oxymoron that it is. And yet, as you devour, you do it because it is your position to devour." With a scheming smirk, he observed Darxtar disembark from the ship, followed by-

-Thundercracker.

To this, the spectre threw back his head and laughed at the sky. "The beaten dog has found a new master, eh, dear brother?" he mused. "Galvatron was too cruel, and thus you found refuge with Darxtar. At least you still have a Decepticon's pride not to go to the Autobots. But why are you here? No matter; you will be perfect to aid me in my next task."

*

As expected, Thundercracker found himself staring down multiple barrels of various weapons, pointed directly at him.

He fought the urge to raise his own lasers in defense, knowing damn well he would not get out of this alive if he did so.

Instead, he brought his arms in front of him and, with a quick gesture downward, dislodged his arm-mounted lasers, allowing them to drop harmlessly on the loading ramp, all without taking his optics off the red femme seemingly the leader of the small army.

"Firestar, where's Elita?" Darxtar demanded roughly.

"What's he doing here?" Firestar rifled back, nodding towards the blue and white Seeker.

"He's under my employment now," the short Decepticon retorted, holding up a hand as to stop Thundercracker from snapping a retort. "Galvatron sent him packing. I picked him up. Now where's Elita?"

"She'll be with you shortly," Firestar answered, her voice still betraying her apparent unease in the situation. "Stay right there."

"Maybe I should stay in the ship," Thundercracker rumbled.

"Something's up," Darxtar muttered. "Something must have happened for all these security measures."

"Besides two Decepticons actually announcing their presence before the Autobot leader?"

"They didn't know you were coming," Darxtar rebutted. "And I don't usually get the royal treatment." For emphasis, he waved a hand towards the Autobots surrounding them. Returning his attention to Firestar, he then questioned, "Then you know of the attack on Seti VIII?"

The femme Autobot only nodded shortly, but did not volunteer any more information.

"It's the main reason why we're here," Darxtar stated coolly. "Seti VIII was a Sirian-funded colony; our employers wanted us to investigate the attack."

"Why would they send Decepticons then?" someone from the crowd demanded angrily, followed by shouts of agreement.

Darxtar only dimmed his remaining optic with an exasperated sigh as he bowed his head to his chest.

"Remember, Thundercracker," he murmured, "Bludgeon was right in the fact we Cybertronians tend to forget our history. This is a prime case." Once again, aloud, he exclaimed, "We will talk to Elita of the situation; you may hear what I have to say when she arrives."

*

Skyfire was perhaps the largest single Autobot, with the exception for the likes of Metroplex and Omega Supreme.

However, as he trudged into the conference room where Elita One waited for him, he seemed more like a child with his hand caught in the cookie jar. Warpath, even with his faceplace, expressed a confusion and some pity for what the giant must have gone through.

"I'm sorry, Elita," Skyfire whispered, his head bowed. "I couldn't stop him...I tried to do what I could, but I couldn't stop him."

"What happened exactly?" Elita questioned, her voice sympathetic.

In a soft, ashamed tone, Skyfire told of the story of what transpired earlier, from when he found out about Artemis being possessed by Starscream to becoming an accessory to theft of Metroplex's optics up to Artemis's fall. His voice grew shaky as he informed her that then Starscream turned on him and took him to Unicron, where he then simply left.

"I tried to stop him," he repeated. "I couldn't..."

"Zowie," Warpath commented, astonished at the account.

"Where's Starscream now?" the Autobot leader questioned.

"I don't know, Elita. He could be literally anywhere-" Upon uttering that, he stopped short, his optics wide as he shot a nervous scan of the room. "Ghosts are a scientific improbability...and even though I don't know how they exist, I know they do after that. And frankly, it terrifies me, especially after what he made Artemis and myself do..."

"Zowie," the tank Autobot whispered again.

Elita didn't like this. Not one bit. Skyfire might have been emotional, but he was a scientist first and foremost. He believed in the tangibility of things. And when something intangible managed to wreak havoc with his own life...

Walking to the giant, she placed a gentle hand on Skyfire's arm.

"We'll get to the bottom of this, I promise," she assured. Although she wouldn't announce this, she already had a person in mind to ask about the phenomenon. But that would have to wait, at least for another half megacycle. "I want the two of you to accompany me to the space dock."

Skyfire did not protest. He nodded dutifully, his apologetic expression growing stoic, serious.

_ Another urgency _ , she brooded. Darxtar, an unlikely ally during the stagnant stels of the Great War, had requested an audience with her. The only thing she could think of that the Decepticon mercenary would come to Cybertron for would be that he either had information on the attacks of Seti VIII and Paradron, or he was looking for information, perhaps even both. Either way, he would be representing the Sirians, meaning he came under white flags.

With both giant and Minibot flanking either side of her, she exited the conference room in a purposeful march, leading them through the control center out to the lit landing area. Sure enough, the boxy Cybertronian transport  _ Little Vengeance  _ sat in full spot light, with armed Autobots surrounding the ship. Two figures stood on the ramp, unmoving, one obviously the stocky bartender, the other-

-she paused, her optics widening in surprise, before realising that it was Thundercracker; unnerving that one of Galvatron's Decepticons had accompanied Darxtar, at least it wasn't who she initially thought it was. Still, she sensed Skyfire's anxiety flare abruptly before settling down.

"Darxtar!" she greeted, however urgently.

"Elita! Damn, girl, you're a hard one to get a hold of!"

"Autobots, stand down," she ordered, approaching the ship. To exclusively the older Decepticon, she then questioned, "what's going on?"

"First, I came to see what you might know about Seti VIII's attack, if you have received any more information on the situation," he stated bluntly. "I may also have some new tidbits that you might find useful as well. As for Thundercracker here, well, he's now employed by Four Winds, since his former boss tried to kill him for staging a coup against him. Or so Galvatron believes."

Thundercracker refused to meet Elita's stare; instead, he found Skyfire's. His crimson optics softened their hatred for a brief moment, finding only compassion from the giant. He quickly turned his head away and downward, clenching his fist tightly at his side. He didn't want to be here. Too damn painful.

"We're dealing with old school Decepticons, Elita," Darxtar explained bluntly. "These were the ones that Sentinel Prime drove off during the Second Great War. The first ones." With a great sigh, his shoulders sunk. "I need to talk to Alpha Trion."

"Alpha Trion is gone, Darxtar," Elita whispered softly.

"I know...I was hoping there was a way to get the answers I need, and he's the only one who would know them. Stupid me."

"Maybe there is a way," the femme pondered. "Emirate Xaaron might-"

"Oh, slot, I was hoping you wouldn't mention him," Darxtar groaned, rolling his one working optic skyward. "Fine, let's go see him. I don't have time to argue. Kid, play nicely with your new allies. Or else."

"What?" Thundercracker bellowed, his baritone revealing very much his namesake. "You can't be serious...!"

"I'm dead serious." Taking hold of the younger Decepticon's shoulder, Darxtar yanked him close, almost touching Thundercracker's nose with his own. "If you so much as cross your optics at anyone, I'll make sure Galvatron has his way with you; this I swear on my creator's cold, dead shell. Understood?"

With a growl, Thundercracker complied, however despondent.

"Good...you!" pointing to a sky blue male Autobot, Darxtar pushed Thundercracker back into a normal standing position. "Apollo, isn't it? Mind doing an old man a favour and escort my apprentice around?"

"Uh-" For once, Apollo found himself at a loss for words. How did this guy know him?

"Skyfire can help you. Of course, that's totally up to Elita." Finally releasing the exiled Seeker, Darxtar fell in step beside the femme. "I just figure having some old friends take care of him. Make him feel a little more comfortable."

"Wonderful," Apollo grumbled. "I'm already getting flashbacks of my childhood."

"Why?" Destiny hissed.

"Thundercracker was one of the guys who used to beat me up for lunch money."

To this, the green and black femme sniggered into her hand.

"It's not funny!" he protested, trying to keep his voice down. "My sister used to help him do it too!"

Destiny had to use both hands now to suppress a louder laugh.

"I'm not going to get any sympathy from you, am I?" he groaned as Skyfire approached him. "At least I can count on you to watch my back, right, big guy?"

The giant nodded, however his expression still bore some worry.

"Firestar," Elita One stepped away from Darxtar and gave quiet instruction to her second in command. Both femmes nodded in agreement, and the Cybertron leader addressed not only Darxtar but the group in general. "Thundercracker is confined to the trade wing of the command hub. Apollo and Skyfire will escort him. I want a guard at every exit." To Thundercracker, she added, "I'm sorry, but you must understand our situation."

"I don't have much of a choice," he rumbled, defeated, plodding towards Skyfire and Apollo under the heavy scrutiny of the Autobots present. As he met the sky blue male's optics, he held out his hand.

A gesture of obedience and friendship? Not likely, Apollo grieved, as he automatically handed over the credit chips in his currency compartment. A short, amused, however cruel laugh was what he received as a reward for his gesture.

Slot. Thundercracker remembered him.

And of course, Destiny thought this a riot as she totally hid her face in her hands, snorting laughter.

"Apollo, you're such a pushover!" she commented, muffled.

"It's called operant conditioning," he grumbled.

"How are you, old friend?" Skyfire changed the subject swiftly, directing his question towards Thundercracker.

"I'm not dead," the Seeker grumbled, falling into step with Skyfire as they entered the command center, Apollo trailing behind, however reluctantly. He sighed forcefully, his crimson optics growing more and more discouraged with each passing click. "The cause I had fought for has been forgotten, Skyfire. I wanted to live fully, in freedom, not barely surviving on Charr, resorting to raiding and plundering. Nor in exile, either."

"Swearing allegiance to the Autobots-"

Skyfire wasn't allowed to finish the sentence as Thundercracker faced him, angered.

"I swear allegiance to the initial cause I fought for," the Seeker growled. "That was freedom and equality for the Polyhexians from the Iacon bureaucracy." Sighing, Thundercracker's shoulders slumped. "Look, I know you probably didn't realize how Megatron managed to get an army so fast...I didn't expect Starscream to tell you. He, worse than Megatron, lost sight of the cause, when it became more about conquest and domination."

Skyfire flinched upon mention of Starscream's name; Thundercracker took it more of the giant remembering the betrayal, and left it at that, returning to Skyfire's side.

"I blame Starscream for your defection, Skyfire," he added, as if to attempt to comfort the white and red Autobot. "He had forgotten that you were never a fighter."

"He has forgotten who he once was," Skyfire lamented softly.

The trade wing was, in layman's terms, gift and convenience shops along with a hostel for overnight travelers in a large courtyard with a transparent ceiling. Some of the shops had already closed up for the evening. Soft music played in the background, interrupted occasionally by flight and tourism information. There were vending kiosks situated in the center of the wide walkway, most had closed as well. Almost a tranquil mood washed over the three, if only because it seemed the area, with the exception of the remaining shop keepers, was deserted.

Jingling the creds in his hand, Thundercracker gave a slight chuckle before striding to an automat, inserting some of the coins into the slot and punching up an order for a canned beverage. For some reason, the action seemed to amuse him as he picked up the can and cracked open the tab, some glowing violet foam escaping the top. Shaking his head with a grin, he took a deep pull of the drink before examining the can once more.

"Do you know," he exclaimed, not taking his optics off the can, "how long it's been since I've actually done that? Just walk up to a vending machine and order a drink? You don't realise the little things until they're taken away. Kind of funny, I know...idiocy, really...actually one of those things that kept me awake at night sometimes, just thinking if Megatron got his way, would there still be vending machines?"

"I don't find it silly one bit," Skyfire smiled, relaxing.

Apollo, on the other hand, only watched, his apparent surprise at the seemingly simple task actually amusing the warrior; that surprise only intensified when Thundercracker threw the larger cred chip back at the smaller Autobot accompanying him.

"I guess I should thank you for the drink, grounder," the Decepticon snorted. "I should, but I won't."

It grew unusually quiet, even with the background music droning from unseen speakers.

"I've learned a lot today alone," Thundercracker initiated, "and it frightens me, Skyfire. Because of our nature, we bury mistakes and hope they never happen again, rather than figure out the problem and rectify it. The Autobots wiped out entire epochs of history to erase wrong-doings. In another million stels, what transpired here will be forgotten. Optimus Prime and Megatron will be names with vague references of their deeds. And that's even if we survive that long. After all, we forgot about the Quintessons, and our elders will not speak of Liege Maximo and the First Decepticons. Are they afraid of the past? By speaking of them, will it bring them back?" Issuing a sardonic snort, Thundercracker brought the can to his mouth, though not drinking just yet. "It's all part of political games, to control the masses, really. In the event of a serious crisis-"

The sudden drop of Thundercracker's speech brought Skyfire's out of the lull of the Seeker's voice, becoming physically aware that the hand holding the beverage began to shake violently before dropping the can entirely, the remaining contents spilling out onto the ground in a dying glow of violet. Thundercracker's head slumped forward as his optics went offline, as though he had simply powered down.

Skyfire backed away a few steps, placing a hand on the butt of his rarely used rifle.

"Apollo," the scientist hissed, "get back-up now."

"What?"

"Just do it!" Skyfire stressed, swinging his firearm from his side and pointed it directly at Thundercracker. "Please!"

The final "please" animated the sky blue Autobot as he rushed back to the hub entrance, confusion still apparent in his handsome features.

Thundercracker's shoulders shook, but not because anything involuntary as a high-pitched laugh escaped his throat, a drastic change from the Seeker's normal baritone.

"Nice bluff, old friend," Starscream chortled, stepping forward in his most recent borrowed shell. Even though they had similar styles, almost identical, hearing Starscream's voice from Thundercracker's shell seemed incredibly wrong. "Put that down before you hurt yourself."

"When does this end, Starscream?" Skyfire demanded, gaining strength of will he was not aware he possessed as he ratcheted the rifle ready. "First Artemis, then me, now Thundercracker. Who else will you destroy before claiming your goal?"

Starscream cocked his brother's head in mock sympathy.

"Does it really look like I care?" he cooed. "You all betrayed me, one way or another. It's the least I can do to repay you."

"You betrayed us!"

"It's an ugly cycle, isn't it? Who betrayed who, we all betray in the end." Leveling his possessed glare, Starscream's sardonic humour melded into anger. "Out of my way, Skyfire, if you will not help me."

"No."

"Like I said, now is not the time to grow a spine. Get out of my way before I do something we may both regret."

"What could you do worse than you've already done?" This went beyond Skyfire's normal stoicism when he was angry; now, his words were biting, hateful. Rare indeed for the mild-mannered scientist.

"You're making this very difficult! Out of my way!"

Skyfire's response to this was sighting along the scope of his rifle. "Not this time, Starscream."

"Even if you could shoot me, you couldn't shoot Thundercracker," the spectre snarled.

His finger trembled on the trigger, Skyfire hesitated.

"Now, put the gun down and help me, Skyfire," Starscream commanded, however bringing forth his more manipulative, charismatic tone. "We can get this done easily if you simply aid me, and I will leave you and Artemis and Thundercracker and all your friends be. I promise."

Shouts from the archway alerted Skyfire that backup was indeed on the way, however, he would not back down.

"Time is short, Skyfire," Starscream reminded. "Help me."

"Your promises mean nothing!" Skyfire blurted out, squeezing the trigger.

The Seeker fell back with the explosion of a single heavy laser shot, a shriek of fury rather than pain responding to the challenge. Jumping back to his feet, Starscream rushed Skyfire, knocking him down.

Skyfire had aimed to incapacitate, more to discourage than anything, as now Thundercracker's right arm hung useless at his side, sparking every time Starscream attempted to will the arm to respond.

Casting a narrowed gaze to the approaching Autobots, he snarled nigh bestially before touching off the jets at his feet, opening full throttle to smash through the glass ceiling of the courtyard with a maniacal cackle that could curdle oil.

"What the hell just happened?" Firestar demanded, approaching a kneeling Skyfire, hunched over his rifle, his optics wide as he hyperventilated.

"I'm sorry, Thundercracker," he finally croaked out. "I couldn't stop him..."

***

Autobot City

Foul moods were contagious.

Rodimus Prime's sulk was more towards the fact that, at this point, there was nothing to be done, just wait.

Aerialbots were scouting the British Columbia forests, Blaster and his boys were scanning the airwaves, Kup made sure security was set up in the case of another Decepticon attempt, First Aid and Red Alert worked on the remaining repairs to Metroplex; pretty much everyone was on high alert, dealing with their duties, coiled up with apprehensive energy. Nothing really could be done about the Starscream, which frustrated him. Perhaps Avalanche was right; letting him actually possess his own shell would make it easier to deal with him. However, the havoc he could cause before then troubled him immensely.

Of course, that wasn't the only thing troubling the young leader.

Alone in the War Room, he stared at the monitors and holographic projector, attempting to make sense of what was transpiring around them. He perched in the head seat in a manner more fitting for someone his actual age: knees drawn up to his chest, his arms crossed over the knees, his face half hidden behind his arms as he peered at the random images and videos flashing in the darkened room.

"I can't do this," he whispered to himself, finally burying his head in his arms. "There's just too much."

Galvatron, he could handle. This he came to grips with.

Quintessons, yes, those too could be dealt with in accordance to defeating their cold logic. They've been too quiet lately, true, but Rodimus had all the confidence in the world in dealing with them.

Starscream, perhaps. Starscream was a loose cannon when he was alive, and worse now that he was dead. This was the start of his doubts, he realised, as he ran through his list of priorities. There were those who could help him in dealing with Starscream, those who knew how to recognize his pattern, as random as it might seem at times. But at this moment, it would be a waste of resources to deal with him currently. Aside from calling Ghostbusters, there wasn't much that could be done.

And then, these new Decepticons. They were enough to get the most powerful empire in the galaxy sweating bullets. From what was gathered, these Decepticons could conquer worlds in a dimming of an optic, something not even Megatron himself could.

"How would you have handled this situation, Optimus?" he questioned the silence. "I know...take out the immediate threat. But which one is the most immediate? We should protect the humans from Galvatron, but what about the other races in the galaxy?" Raising his head, staring up at the monitors, witnessing the destruction of two planets, the battle in Portland, and schematics of Quintesson bases on Io, Deimos, and Proxima Centauri, before crying out in anguish, dropping his head back in its resting place.

"Where do I start?" he whimpered.

He felt a heavy hand on his shoulder; peeking out from behind his arm, he noticed Ultra Magnus taking the seat next to him.

"You don't need to do this on your own, Rodimus," he assured in an almost fatherly tone. "You know we will help carry the burden as well."

"But there's so much out there," the boy exclaimed. "I mean, when Optimus was our leader, it was so cut and dry. We had Autobots, Decepticons, protect Earth, save Cybertron. Now, our universe has expanded out from Earth and Cybertron. Colonies, new allies...many new enemies...there's too much even for us."

"We will find a way to deal with it," Magnus reassured. "Just don't be afraid or too proud to ask for help. You can't do it alone, just like Optimus couldn't. And yes, you will make mistakes. Everyone does. But we will never let you fall."

Rodimus seemed to mull this over, bringing his chin onto his forearms and tapping a finger on his shoulder.

"Did you talk to Artemis?" he questioned sincerely.

He didn't receive a reply.

"She constantly fights the storm alone to prove herself, but if she doesn't find a safe moor soon, she'll eventually be smashed upon the cliffs." With a snort, Rodimus shook his head. "Sorry...kinda blurted that one out. I don't know why. Just seemed to be the right thing to say."

"Regardless, it's a good analogy."

"So what should we do then about her? We need her, if only to keep the good graces of the Sirian Empire."

"What does the Matrix say?"

"Actually, that's what the Matrix said, the bit about the storm and mooring. She needs us as well, Magnus. And from what the Matrix seems to be getting at, she needs you the most."

The city commander exhaled, somewhat annoyed.

"Hey, you wanted to share my burden, right? Well, tell her I told her to cooperate with you. Or something to that nature. Frankly, I don't think we could deal with the two of you sulking around and avoiding one another like cosmic rust any more."

"She's being difficult," Magnus stated, after a moment choosing his words.

"So I heard. You know, I don't mean this in offense or anything, but ever think of talking with her without criticizing her? Maybe look for the good points rather than pointing out the bad all the time? Like you said, we all make mistakes." Leaning back, Rodimus stretched his legs out in front of him, staring up at the ceiling. "Sometimes, we need people to offer help, because we don't realise how deep we're in until it's too late." Lacing his hands behind his head, the young Autobot glanced at the city commander through the corner of his optic. "Everyone needs help when they fall, Magnus. Not just me."

"I'm not going to have much of a choice in this, am I?"

"Well, you could just ignore her, but that's probably more harm than good. That being said, I might as well make myself a little more useful and find out what exactly Cav's doing."

"She's compiling data for the next ten megacycles." By his tone, Magnus obviously made it sound like she was being punished.

"I know. Meaning she's looking for some information."

"What do you mean by that?"

"When you know her as long as I do, you figure out her motives. Now, back during the Great War, when you were in charge of the Defense Hub on Beta, and Cav was assigned to your command, when she irked you, what did you do? Send her to compile data as a punishment. Every time. It was expected."

"So you're saying she was purposely trying to get into the records room?"

"What better and easier way to get in?"

"Rodimus, is she a security risk?" Magnus demanded abruptly.

The young leader winced physically. "She's my friend, Magnus. She wouldn't betray us to the Decepticons, not for anything."

"I'd keep an optic on her if I were you."

"I'll talk to her. If anything, she's trying to be helpful...in her own, 'slot authority' sort of way-okay, I'll keep an optic on her. " Standing, Rodimus regarded the career soldier with a square gaze. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but I sense a 'that's what I thought about a certain someone long ago,' coming along."

"I wasn't going to say anything of that nature."

"You don't need to, but then, that's delving into personal matters. I'll find out what Cav's doing, you find a working relationship with dealing with Art, and we'll go from there. There isn't much else we can do until Silverbolt reports back. I'm going to have Skylynx do a system patrol in the meantime. When we get reports from them, we'll have another think tank session, but other than that," with a swift scan of the monitors, he shook his head as though trying to shake the images, "I just want to get away from these scenes."

*

It had become unbearable.

It shouldn't have made any difference, it shouldn't have gone this far.

Artemis sat on a low ledge about thirty feet from the ground, Autobot City to her right, its lights casting a harsh cold accent to the rough terrain.

In her right hand was a large caliber handgun, balancing in her palm.

How easy it would be to end it all right there and then. But then, what would it accomplish? What good would it do? Leaving too many loose ends untied for others to tangle over, no, she couldn't do that.

Holstering the handgun, she sighed heavily, resting her elbows on her knees.

"Face it, Arty," she grumbled. "You're cursed."

The sound of a heavy diesel engine coming closer echoed in her audio receptors; she simply ignored it.

She had no problem playing nice with the other kids, that wasn't the issue.  _ Then what was the problem? _ she demanded herself.

Simple. It all led back to one person. No matter how she tried to deny it, one Autobot made it extremely difficult for her to feel she belonged. It was the same one Autobot who made her uncomfortable, unwelcome, unappreciated, a reminder that she was a tool to be casted away when no longer needed.

_ No, what wasn't true. _

True or not, she chided herself, it was still a terrible feeling.

_ Festering and consuming, until there is little left. _

"I don't think I can deal with this much longer if I let it sit too long," she grumbled, hiding her face with the palm of her hand.

The engine cut abruptly nearby. The sound of a heavy march clacked against the rock, coming towards her.

_ Slot. _

Standing precariously on the ledge, she gauged the distance from her position to the ground, bending at the knee to jump.

A large hand reached upwards, offering silent assistance. Staring at Ultra Magnus's gesture as though a foreign concept, she paused, brooding.

"You asked me not to let you fall," he finally broke the silence between the two.

Planting one hand on the rock, she took hold of his proffered hand and pushed away from the ledge, landing solidly next to him.

"I'm sorry for attacking you like that," she exclaimed, not quite ready to let go of his hand, not that he was fighting to take it back. "I didn't want you getting messed up with whatever I drag behind me. I guess. Ah, hell, I don't know what I want, to tell you the truth."

"Have you come to a decision?" he questioned.

Yeah," she nodded. "Although I have one condition."

"You're stubborn and won't ask for help when you need it. I've pretty much accepted that."

She looked at him quizzically. "Did you just make a joke?" she demanded with a slight twitch of her mouth. "At my expense, no doubt. Not bad, not bad at all. Maybe there is hope for you yet."

"Avoidance isn't going to work, Artemis."

The switch between jest and seriousness was subtle in a way that she was far from surprised. "I figured that much."

"Which means we have to think of a way to cooperate."

"I'm open to suggestions."

"For starters, stop running away from your problems."

"I don't run away from my problems," she protested. "Maybe step back and try to snipe them from behind at a later date when they're least expecting it, but I don't run from them."

Magnus granted her an exasperated glare.

"Hey, I'm facing one of my problems right now, aren't I?" she then proclaimed before bowing her head. "Look, you're right. It's been a stressful couple of stels, and I just want to get to the point where I can actually sit back, relax, and think of relationships and who I want to spend time with without feeling like I'm wasting it. But now isn't the time. Far from it. Let's just try to work on a professional level for now."

"Agreed. So does this mean you'll follow orders?"

"This means that I will speak up if something doesn't make sense to me, but in essence, yeah, I'll follow orders...just as long as you accept my methods."

"Your methods-"

"-Are unconventional, unorthodox, and, for the most part, dishonourable for an Autobot, right?" With a snort of sardonic laughter, she shook her head. "It's all I know, Magnus. It's a part of me. It's what I've done for over five million stels. To ask me to change is asking too much." Taking a few steps from him, back towards the city, she halted, not by choice; Magnus still had hold of her hand.

"You can let go of me now," she suggested, glancing back over her shoulder.

"I don't think I will this time," he exclaimed, his voice low.

She granted him a genuine, almost shy smile, a rarity. "You can be pretty charming when you want to be, soldier," she commented lightly, pivoting about-face to him. "How about when we get through this, I'll buy you a drink-"

Her clear blue optics suddenly narrowed as her gaze shot over his shoulder, to about fifteen degrees above the northwestern horizon, barely revealing the slight false dawn glow of Portland.

"What is it?" Magnus demanded, following her line of sight.

"Aircraft, coming towards us," she whispered.

"The Arialbots? Or human-piloted?"

"Incoming too fast to be human, especially at night. Blaster, I need an ID on those jets incoming from the northwest, ASAP."

" _ You got it, Art...! I'm getting some interference...can't seem to hail them, but can tell you right now they ain't 'Bolt and the boys. " _

"Sweeps?"

_ "Nope, looks old school to me! Want me to tell the head haunchos?" _

"I've got it covered, Blaster," Artemis snarled, yanking Ultra Magnus back towards the city. "They're scouting us like we're scouting them. Time to stoke up defenses, Magnus; Gavatron's getting ready to strike."

*

"Cav? What are you doing in there?"

Had she not been initially wired for communication-related duties, Cavalier might have not heard Rodimus's muffled demand through the door, not to mention over the loud and heavy lyrics of Clutch's "Escape from the Prison Planet" that she currently was playing through the computer system. Kicking the chair away from the console as she minimized her research and turned down the music, she regarded the door with a quizzical look on her face.

"Compiling data!" she stated loudly. "Just like I'm told to do!"

"Whatever your intention is, Magnus fell for it."

"Well, of course he fell for it!" Cavalier snapped back, then let out an anguished cry, hiding her face with her hands. "Slot!"

The door slid open and the Autobot leader stepped into the records room, arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against the door jamb.

"Okay, now we're getting somewhere." Casting a stern gaze at his friend, who was still hiding her face in shame, he sighed with a chuckle. "So we both know Magnus is a little predictable. Now, what was so important for you to find out without asking any of us?"

"When do I ever ask for information when I can find it out myself?" she questioned, finally reclaiming her cool, almost sweet exterior.

"When it's classified information, that's when. What are you looking for?"

"Information on what happened in 1999 and 2002," she exclaimed. "I was thinking it would help us out in what's going on now, you know?"

"The Ark II?"

She nodded. "I didn't want to bother Spike and Bumblebee and the other dudes who were involved, you know? I was just thinking about how the Decepticons retreated to British Columbia...I know, it's a longshot, but I just needed to know if we had searched all the possible avenues."

"And so you pissed off Magnus just to get in here."

"What can I say? It's fun to push his buttons.

"You do realise he's not really one you'd want to get on his bad side."

"I can't help it if he can't take a joke."

"You hit a sensitive nerve with him."

"He exposed his weakness. I merely pointed it out to him."

With a heavy sigh, Rodimus crossed his arms over his chest and bowed his head.

"Right now," he stressed, "we need everyone cooperating. I sent Magnus to work up an agreement with Artemis."

"Slot, Rod, can't you just throw her in the brig or something?"

"For what?"

"She's a freakin' Decepticon, Rod!"

"And you shouldn't be put in the brig as well for hacking into classified information, not to mention baiting your commanding officer?"

Her faceplate made small movements as her optics widened at the observation, although she bit down on a snappy retort; truth, none could come. Ducking her head, she seemed to close in on herself, hands in her lap. "So what do you want me to do?" she whispered.

"Go help out Blaster. If Magnus throws a fit, I'll cover you. Just one favour, Cav. You can go back to your private revolution after the war, but for now, let's get the problems at hand solved before starting new ones, no matter how insignificant."

Standing, her head still hung in defeat, she nodded. "All right," she agreed, closing down the consoles. With an expert move, she palmed the drive she had backed up everything dealing with Grimlock in her hand casually before trudging to Rodimus's side.

Her mood somewhat brightened as she felt his arm drape over her shoulders, giving her a friendly one-armed hug as they ventured into the hallway. "Well, some things never change," he smirked.

"You're bailing me out of trouble rather than me dragging you into it," she rebutted, her optics smiling, however sadly.

"Hey, what are best friends for?"

_ "Rodimus, I require your presence in my laboratory," _ Perceptor hailed, his voice on the verge of excitement.  _ "I think I may have calculated a hypothesis that may aid us in ascertaining the precise whereabouts of this rogue faction of Decepticons." _

"How can he say that in one breath?" Cavalier questioned in rhetoric.

"Listen to yourself sometime, Cav. Now, go make yourself useful; Blaster might need some help with tracking the 'Cons in our backyard," Rodimus jested. "I'm on my way, Perceptor."

As the two old friends parted ways, Cavalier watched him leave before regarding her prize in her hand.

"I sure hope this is worth the trouble," she whispered, "and I really hope this doesn't get me into even deeper slag."

*

" _ Kehchek dro! Artemis, kehchek dro!" _

"Dro kehchek kis, Garotte. Breen?"

Hearing a Cybertronian conversing in Sirian was quite strange, Kup realised, as Artemis answered the hail patched into security.

"What's she saying?" he demanded, only for the black femme waving him away, her optics furrowed in concentration.

" _ Drakka Kutasur kulo yutaka Galvatron tivra nokitu! Trypticon kurotokk!" _

"Kretak goh kiku ros. Junuk-ta, Garotte, disuk nitaruk. Artemis hikude."

"What the hell was that?" Kup reinstated. "I heard Galvatron and Trypticon, and that's about it."

"Garotte is a Northstar; she was sent by Avalanche to do some scouting of the Decepticon base," Artemis explained, leaning back against the wall of Kup's office. "She basically informed us that Galvatron is stepping up preparations for attack, quite possibly in the morning. In the meantime, he sent two to scout our base to see how we were preparing ourselves. Magnus and I already got visual on them."

"So far, they're maintaining a wide holding pattern with a five mile radius," Ultra Magnus stated coolly. "We can't tell if they're too afraid to move in closer or they're able to scan that far off."

"We could send Powerglide and Stormrave out there to intercept," Artemis commented, "with the brothers to back up, but it's too early to say if they're an actual scout or if they're decoys."

"We should get Rodimus in here," Kup suggested, only to have Magnus shake his head.

"This is something we can handle," the city commander assured. "What if we sent Sunstreaker and Sideswipe for a counter scout?"

"Make them sweat a little?" Kup added.

"Basically make them aware we know they're there," Artemis spelled out, mulling the tactic. "Which may spook them to either run away or attempt a flyby over the city."

"It would keep our remaining fliers in the city so that we have aerial defense," Kup snapped his fingers.

"Pretty much discouraging any pop shots on our soil," Artemis concluded. "But what about the possibility of an ambush? Will the brothers be able to get back here if Thrust and Dirge have hidden backup?"

As Magnus opened his mouth to issue a retort, the black femme pointed a finger at the city commander in defense. "Don't start, Magnus. It was simple deduction. Garotte said two  _ Kutasur _ were sent to scout.  _ Kutasur  _ is Sirian for Seeker. Since Ramjet and Skywarp are confirmed dead and Thundercracker in exile, not to mention Starscream not exactly on Galvatron's good side-" her anger overflowed into her voice as her fist clenched tightly, "-that only leaves Thrust and Dirge. They're expendable in Galvatron's optics, but still, it's not saying that perhaps the Combaticons or even the Constructicons are lying in wait nearby."

Kup had expected a verbal battle to erupt between the two, and was already standing from his chair when the city commander simply nodded.

"Protectobots on standby, with Stormrave and Powerglide ready to deploy if necessary; I want Springer with them for added measure," Magnus ticked by on his fingers. "Sunstreaker and Sideswipe for interception of the Seekers. I think we can handle that."

"Looks like we're going to have a crowded brig," Artemis commented, "What about Octane? He may have information we could use, and he's taking up space in the brig."

"Do you view him as a possible threat?"

"Unless you consider his flirting a threat, then no."

"Jazz and Bumblebee can escort him to guest quarters then. We'll need the room if we start taking on more prisoners. Then there's the new Autobot who came in with Skyfire."

"Until we hear from Skyfire, we don't know why he really came here, right?"

"He seems to get the right idea about staying out of the way, but we should team him up with someone until we get the time to actually question him."

"What about letting him tag along with Jazz and Bumblebee as well? Neither of them will take slag from Octane, but they won't see the new guy as an annoyance either."

"I'll leave it up to them. Any other issues we can cover?"

"I think that's it for now, at least what I can think of. You?"

The old soldier was definitely surprised, more by the fact that he didn't have to pry someone's hand from the other's throat, let alone a full conversation in which they were both listening to one another, making suggestions and decisions quick and efficient.

"Are we ready for an all-nighter, kids?" He finally decided to go with the least confrontational expression he could.

"Always am," Artemis nodded. "Where do you need me?"

"Keep contact with your Northstar partner," Magnus ordered, "and monitor the Aerialbots and the brothers. If there's any sign of trouble, alert me. Kup, start prepping the non-essential human personnel for evacuation to Portland. Let's keep the battle quarantined to the immediate area."

"We're on it, lad," Kup nodded, as Magnus exited without further ado. After a half cycle, the old veteran casted a questioning glance at the former mercenary, already working diligently at her console, her immediate attention on satellite images of the western seaboard of North America; she was not paying him any heed at that point.

Reigning in his curiosity, he decided he had other things he had to attend to as he, too, left the office, hailing Blurr to aide him in his task.

*

Perceptor with any type of contraption would scare anyone. True, it was more frightening when Wheeljack would ask anyone if one wanted to see his new invention, and perhaps that fear carried over to when Perceptor worked out his theories on models. As track records went, Perceptor actually had a high success rate of his constructions being a success, whereas Wheeljack's usually ended up either getting destroyed by Decepticons or by Autobots when the invention went awry.

Rodimus stared at what seemed to be some sort of engine with a miniature fusion generator rigged up to it sitting in a rigging on a central counter.

Had he had full comprehension of how a fusion generator worked, he would have walked immediately out of the laboratory with only a blurred greeting and goodbye.

"Ah, good, Rodimus, I'm delighted you could be present at this moment of breakthrough!" Perceptor greeted cheerfully. Wreck-Gar, waving from the far end of the laboratory, muttered to himself as he busied himself filling out a schematic sheet.

"I had wished the other department heads could have attended this monumental breakthrough," Perceptor continued, a little disheartened, before shrugging. "Then again, we do seem to have an inevitable crisis on our hands."

"Perceptor, please, get to the point," Rodimus commanded in a tired tone.

"It is actually quite simple. We have pretty much come to the conclusion that these new Decepticons have outfitted their ships with either spatial displacement devices, much like the concept of Shockwave's space bridge, or tachyon accelerators, like the Sirian warp gates. Both work on the effects of tesseracts, or the fourth dimensional equivalent of a cube."

"Okay..."

"In theory, utilizing navigation with tesseracts is simple: you have your normal six points for x, y, and z planes to find your zero point, and of course your origin point, and the distance between the zero point and your point of origin is the route you travelled; now, to travel using the tesser concept, you add an  _ i,  _ or imaginary number, that represents the fold in which you bring the point of origin closer to the destination point so that the point of origin and the destination point become one and the same. To accomplish that, the  _ i _ must be taken into effect somewhere between the two points and the sine of the six other navigation points to create said tesser which brings the two points together. This was accomplished by the space bridge. However, in this effect, the tesseract was unstable, and thus the space bridge had to be moved after a while, or else the feedback from travelling in such a way would be a strain on the subatomic particles of the particular area, creating pretty much a however small and rapid expanse, not unlike a low-yield nuclear explosion."

"And that's bad."

"The Sirians developed an answer to this with the warp gate, which utilizes the nuclear reaction of the neutrinos and fuse them together, only to break them apart again in a fusion/fission process, the byproduct being tachyons. This stabilized the tesseract and creates a wormhole effect without fear of the tesseract collapsing, as it had done with the space bridge."

"Uh huh."

"Now, to create an power plant that can handle the fusion/fission process, it would have to be rather large to house necessary precautions, of course, since it's even more disastrous if there was an accident, because not only will the tesseract break down, but the area surrounding it would in fact temporally degrade, depending on the distance. In space, it wouldn't be so much of a problem due to the vast absence of matter with the exception, of course, of any planetoid or star, but to have a warp gate on a planet could prove cataclysmic."

"Yep, very bad."

"Now, this isn't enough to conduct a fully proven hypothesis, but in the two instances where both Noveau Alaska and Paradron were attacked, the one ship reported to strike the surface from orbit was too massive, not to mention cumbersome, to be fitted for planetfall, giving me the general theory that this ship was built in space, and was meant for nothing more than system to system travel. In other words, this ship's main three functions are for travelling mass distances, transporting troops and equipment, and global genocide from orbit, not necessarily in that order."

"Definitely bad."

"However, it also gives me a clue that whoever built this ship was also taking into consideration that this transwarp drive could be unstable, and therefore the possibility of a catastrophe such as I explained prior could indeed happen; if the ship was to experience a terrible accident in which their transwarp malfunctioned, then it would not risk the new colony. And then taking into the fact that we are dealing with Decepticons, any troops are expendable casualties. But I digress. As I said before, both the Sirians and the Decepticons from Cybertron created transwarp generators, but at their current size, it would be highly unlikely to be used efficiently in any known ship. However!" This, the scientist stressed by holding up an index finger; this brought Rodimus's dwindling attention back to front, "I had a theory that the reason the Sirians used the ultra dense and uncommon metal element  _ kveltihyrium _ in lining these generators was to contain the fusion/fission process so that the nuclear particles would not rapidly oxidize the rest of the generator. When I learned that they used  _ kveltihyrium _ , I researched its atomic and subatomic properties to see if we could replicate it in a synthetic environment, and found out something truly astounding!"

"We had this metal, right?"

Perceptor nodded enthusiastically. "It turns out kveltihyrium is in fact Ingredient X, the main component in Chlorostop, my very own invention, only in a solid form. In space, it possesses the characteristics of solid state metal, but when it is exposed to a rich oxygen/nitrogen atmosphere of roughly 275 degrees kelvin, it reaches a thick liquid state; at 315 kelvin, it becomes a heavy gas. With this new discovery, I, with the esteemed help of Wreck-Gar, constructed a miniature version of the generator with rigourous control and safety factors in place. By utilizing a compressor and thermostat that keeps a mixture of oxygen, nitrogen, and kveltihyrium at 320 kelvin and circulates it around the fusion/fission generator, we are able to create a much more portable version of the transwarp utilized by the Sirians!"

"To tell you the truth, Perceptor, you lost me at 'it's actually quite simple.'"

Perceptor's optics dimmed quickly, his expression giving a faint tinge of annoyance. "Allow me to demonstrate." The scientist reclaimed his excited demeanor, flipping the switch on the model engine. A high-pitched whine emanated from the contraption, powering up a small portal device next to the generator. On the other side of the room, where Wreck-Gar stood, was an identical machine, also powering up. Picking up a wrench from the workbench, Perceptor flipped it once in the air as if to test its weight, then tossed it through the portal. There was a sudden though slight flare of the energy coursing through the two portals, and, as though there was no distance between the two portals, the wrench came through and hit the far wall with a slight clang, without any visible damage or deformity.

"It's stable, Rodimus," Perceptor stated proudly. "Wreck-Gar and I have been through test after test for the past several megacycles, and not once did we encounter any problems!"

"Well, that sounds good, save for the fact that we still require an exit portal, right?" Rodimus questioned, finally getting the gist of the explanation.

"Not necessarily, commander!" Wreck-Gar retorted. "In the event of a transwarp jump in which there is no portal, all we need to do is put our seats and trays in the upright position and calculate the entire tesseract, kemosabe!"

"What we have set up is without calculating the tesseract," Perceptor translated. "Since we have an exit and entrance portal, we do not require anything more than the two portals to be set to the same frequency. However, the tesseract is mandatory for those jumps in which there is no exit portal, since the entrance portal is created internally. A Sirian warpgate is created to only sync up with another corresponding warpgate; the spacebridge on Cybertron had to be rerouted constantly to prevent any damage to the entrance portal in Shockwave's tower. This setup is fully stable."

"Sounds impressive, I think," Rodimus cupped his chin as he examined the portal nearest to Perceptor. "Has it been been guinea-pig tested?"

"Oh, no, not yet, sir," Perceptor shook his head. "We would have to construct a portal larger than this so that we can try human- and larger sized objects before we start with the live tests."

"What happens if someone sticks their hand in here?" Rodimus questioned, pointing to the portal.

"Oh, theoretically, due to the tesser nature, it would appear on the other end as though there were no distance between them."

"Sounds plausible," Rodimus shrugged before thrusting his arm through the portal, much to Perceptor's abrupt horror.

"Oh, please don't!" Perceptor protested, relaxing somewhat when it seemed the young leader was in fact unfazed. However, the hypothesis was proven false; Rodimus's arm was nowhere to be seen on the other side of the portal, either the entrance one or the exit by Wreck-Gar's station.

"Whammy!" the Junkion groaned, disappointed. "Looks like it's back to the drawing board for this wascally wabbit."

"Well, that sucked," Rodimus huffed, disappointed. "Sorry about that, Perceptor. My curiosity got the better of me."

"Quite all right, Rodimus," Perceptor nodded, gulping somewhat. "Now, if you don't mind, retract your arm so we can shut down the equipment."

"Yeah, no problem-" Tugging, Rodimus's head fell to his chest with an embarrassed sigh. "Problem."

"I appreciate your gesture in the name of science, but please, you must think these things through," Perceptor chided, tapping his cheek. "We could attempt the mandatory reversal of polarity..."

"I think I would like my arm back, yeah," the red and yellow Autobot chuckled, however weakly. "And I'd appreciate it if word of this never left this room. This is embarrassing."

Wreck-Gar and Perceptor met to discuss notes quickly, before Rodimus tried tugging again. He could still feel his arm, and wiggle his fingers and bend his wrist, but other than that, it seemed good and stuck.

At least until he experienced what felt like a small hand taking hold of his, generating a sharp tingle down his endoskeleton.

"Um...guys...?" Rodimus beckoned, his nervousness growing. "I think this problem's getting worse."

A sharp snap of an electrical shock echoed through the enclosed laboratory, a split click before a blinding flash of light overloaded their optics. With a collective cry of pain, the three were consumed by what seemed like an explosion of sound and light, but with very little force.

It was about a cycle afterwards when Perceptor managed to reclaim his bearings, his optics still attempting to compensate for the sudden blindness.

"Wreck-Gar? Rodimus?" He beckoned, his audio receptors ringing painfully.

"Victory for Zim! Earth has lost this day!" Wreck-Gar stated, somewhat disorientated.

"Rodimus?" Perceptor called out again.

When his optics finally righted themselves, although there was still a fuzzy overlay of extreme highlight, Perceptor scanned the laboratory, only noting Wreck-Gar.

"Rodimus?" The scientist thrice demanded, although this time his voice was soft, hopeless.

"Damn dirty Sebaceans got to him, Captain," Wreck-Gar whispered, padding over to the entrance portal, now dull and powerless; kneeling, he examined the Matrix, laying helplessly without its master before him, a slight gold glow from the tachyon discharge illuminating it.

"Oh, no," Perceptor mouthed, shock setting in as though a heavy curtain of impending doom fell on the final act.


	5. Interlude: The Melancholy Tango

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thunderwing and his people face off their biggest threat to the Cygnus way of life, as an ancient enemy returns to lay waste to what he had built.
> 
> For Jhiaxus, it's an average Dixasol.

Interlude

Cygnus VII

A squat little Decepticon with a stony blue and orange complexion ran up the stairs to the High Command chambers, wheezing for breath. He wasn't made for any type of running, that much was for certain.

When he arrived at his destination, he burst through the chamber doors. "Lord Thunderwing! Lord Thunderwing!" he cried out, panicked.

The large Decepticon Pretender, white and gold with a long, gaunt face, glared down at the little Pretender from his throne, his chin resting on his fist.

"What is it, Icepick?" Thunderwing demanded, his voice bordering contempt.

Icepick's pinchers clicked nervously as he finally caught his breath. "Orbital stations have been destroyed, sir! We're being attacked!"

"What?" Standing quickly, Thunderwing's hot gaze bore down on Icepick, who balked considerably. "Who would dare attack us?"

"I don't know, sir! What sensors we have left in orbit picked up, from what we can tell, a Decepticon battle cruiser!"

"Who in hell would have a battle cruiser?" Throwing his hand out, Thunderwing then commanded, "Get me Roadblock and Bludgeon right now! I want the  _ WarWorld  _ prepped and ready to return full assault!"

"Of course, my lord!" Icepick stammered, backing away from the angered giant.

Thunderwing watched the little Pretender leave, his thoughts dark and ominous. "No splinter group has a battle cruiser," he snarled to himself. "And the  _ Nemesis  _ will never fly again. Which means only one thing." With a slow, calculated chuckle, he finally bellowed, "Come, Maximo! Test our strength now! Learn the hard way that Thunderwing will answer any challenge!"

*

A dark cloud seemed to blot out the day star as the shopkeepers along the main promenade looked up in awe and anticipation.

"What is that?" Bludgeon heard one of his neighbours, an explosive expert by the name of Bombburst, demand.

"It is our impending doom," the skull-faced Metallikato master hissed, just as a bleep from his intercom unit at his door beeped an urgent repetition.

_ "Lord Bludgeon, Lord Thunderwing requests your presence in his command chambers!" _ Icepick exclaimed, his voice trembling, static laced through the transmission.

"So the time has come," Bludgeon shook his head, drawing his sword as to inspect it. "Very well, then." Calmly, he began his trek to the Citadel, only to be stopped by Bombburst.

"What about us, Bludgeon?" he demanded, nervous. "What should we do?"

Looking up at the ship, Bludgeon trilled in thought before regarding the other Pretender.

"Fight," he answered simply, "or pray. Preferably the former of the two."

With that, he left his fellow shopkeepers to decide whether or not to pick up their weapons of yore.

*

Roadblock was a massive hulk of a Transformer, especially with his Pretender shell. Standing next to Roadblock, Bludgeon seemed tiny, even more skeletal and lank. Before them, Thunderwing paced between the two, occasionally granting them an angry glare. Outside, the telltale sounds of battle raged on; Bludgeon knew that, unlike the Sirian colony Seti VIII, the invaders could not merely attack from afar and then move in to reap in the spoils.

"Analysis, Bludgeon?" Thunderwing demanded, short tempered.

"If I didn't know any better, my lord, I would say Maximo had purposely sent enough troops to invade our planet with minimal casualties to his side," Bludgeon exclaimed, his exterior cool, calculating. "I truly believe he wants us all dead."

Thunderwing paused as though contemplating the martial artist's observation, and then threw his head back to laugh.

"Of course he wants us dead! After all, we were the ones who caused his banishment from Cybertron!" His sardonic mirth ebbing, Thunderwing then averted his gaze to Roadblock. "What is our tactical situation regarding our battle fleet?"

"Fully operational, sir," Roadblock exclaimed, his voice thunder in comparison to Bludgeon's raspier, lethal whisper. "And our flagship, the  _ WarWorld, _ stands by at 100%, ready to launch upon your order."

"That's exactly what I wanted to hear." Turning away from both Pretenders, Thunderwing then clasped his hands behind his back. "Bludgeon, call your troops and prepare them for war."

"Of course, my lord," Bludgeon drew his sword in salute, then, with a militant pivot, he exited the chambers.

"And me, sir?" Roadblock questioned earnestly.

"I want you with me as my second in command, Roadblock," Thunderwing exclaimed, with a glint of pride. "You will be in command of the  _ WarWorld _ ."

"Thank you, sir." Roadblock, too, saluted, his left fist to his right breast, before heading past Thunderwing to another entrance across the vast room.

When the two had left, the Pretender leader chortled darkly.

"You will not defeat me easily, Maximo," he shook his head.

"Is that so?"

The strange, booming voice caused Thunderwing to shift to attack mode, drawing his trusty hand cannon and aiming in the direction of the newcomer's voice. "You dare trespass in my Citadel?" Thunderwing shouted. "Who are you? How did you get in here?"

The figure stepped forward, white with red, green and yellow. He was bulky and tall, a very intimidating robot who was slightly shorter than Thunderwing but almost twice his girth. The style of his design almost suggested Seeker; however, the Seekers were considered handsome. This fellow was far from it.

"The third question is simple: we have a teleportation device that can penetrate even the thickest of metal alloys. As for the second question...allow me to present myself," the newcomer greeted, grinning cruelly at the Pretender leader, "I am Liege Centuro Jhiaxus, commander in chief of the First Imperiatrix Battalion, captain of the Decepticon flagship  _ Twilight. _ And, to your first question, yes, I dare. You, Thunderwing, are considered a traitor to the Decepticon ranks and therefore must be executed."

"The concept of 'traitor' may differ between different splinter fractions," Thunderwing explained slowly, his optics never leaving Jhiaxus's form. "There's little difference between traitor and revolutionist."

"Only to those in charge does it make a difference."

"And I'm in charge here," Thunderwing flashed a dangerous grin before firing off a round from his firearm. "Guards!"

*

The silver and teal aide-de-camp watched from the bridge of the  _ Twilight  _ the battle below; unlike the previous planets they had stormed, Cygnus VII was proving rather resistant. Perhaps it was the driving force that was in all Decepticons, no matter how far down the evolutionary line.

These throwbacks were indeed bothersome, rebellious.

Rook had calculated the time it would take for the Liege Centuro to finish his task to usurp and dispose of the current leader of this ragtag group; already, the allotted time had lapsed thrice.

His hand hovering over the communications panel, Rook prepared to hail his lord Jhiaxus just before the tactical officer barked out a warning.

"Enemy ships breaking the planet's gravity well, sir!"

"How many?" Rook demanded, his voice smooth and calm, not betraying his concern for his leader.

"Twenty-four small fighters, eleven bombers, five what seem to be siege ships, and...by the Pit...!"

"What is it, ensign?"

"Sir, I...I don't know how to explain it! A monstrosity!"

"On screen!"

The screen at the front of the bridge panned over the planet's surface, revealing, over the terminator, a full fleet of warships; the agile fighter ships already in attack formation, with the bulkier bombers flanking them. The siege ships, as the ensign reported, were larger than the bombers four times over, seeming to be more or less an engine with large cannons mounted to it; these cruised behind the bombers.

Finally, dwarfing all the other ships, with the size of a small asteroid, the flagship of the Pretender Decepticons loomed, rising over the planet like a vengeful moon. The ensign wasn't exaggerating; shaped more like a slightly elongated sphere, this ship was an abomination, a horror just looking upon it.

"Sir, the enemy ships are hailing us!" another crew member called out.

"On speakers," Rook ordered.

_ "This is Commander Roadblock of the Cygnus Decepticon Fleet! Cease this senseless attack or perish!" _

"Scan for weaknesses in their defenses," Rook ordered softly, tapping out a sequence on the communications panel. "Lord Jhiaxus, the opposition has stepped up their defenses. We await your further command."

*

Rook would have to wait a little bit longer.

Jhiaxus allowed a small smirk to stretch across his features as Thunderwing's shot dissipated over the force field surrounding the invader's form.

"Did you truly believe I would present myself to you without precautions?" Jhiaxus questioned in rhetoric.

"Lord Thunderwing!" Bludgeon burst through the chamber doors, weapons ready. "The city has been overrun! Reports are estimating at least seventeen thousand enemy troops are on planet-"

"Double that number," Jhiaxus stated calmly, his optics locked on Thunderwing. "You've lost, throwback. Surrender and I will grant you and your people a painless death."

"My lord!" Rushing in front of Thunderwing, Bludgeon brandished his sword vertically, his palm resting on the blade. "You must escape!"

"Rook," Jhiaxus hailed. "Attack at will. Destroy their fleet."

"No!" Thunderwing snapped, before Bludgeon stopped him from lunging, his seemingly empty sockets not allowing Jhiaxus to leave his sights.

"My lord, you must leave!" He hissed. "Our city has been lost! We must escape with our lives!"

"You will not be so lucky." The new Decepticon shook his head as Thunderwing backed up, gauging the distance to the back door. He walked around Bludgeon until the smaller Pretender was between Jhaixus and Thunderwing; on top of that, he was between Bludgeon and the door.

"Perhaps next time, Jhiaxus," Thunderwing snarled, breaking for the exit.

"When you learn to fight honourably, then we shall face again," Bludgeon trilled, following suit of his leader.

"Pathetic," Jhiaxus rumbled, glancing around the now empty halls. "And here I truly believed I would have received a welcoming challenge from my ancestors. Rook, teleport. Have an extermination and development team stay planetside."

_ "Of course, sir,"  _ Rook agreed, as the Liege Centuro shimmered and disappeared from the empty Citadel.

*

"How could this happen?" Thunderwing roared as Bludgeon led him to a small fighter awaiting deployment in the underground hangar underneath the Citadel. "Our early warning systems should have picked those bastards up before they even came close to the Cygnus system!"

"I have heard that Galvatron's Decepticons had come up with a plausible cloaking device," Bludgeon explained slowly, taking the tactical seat of the fighter. "Perhaps Maximo has perfected this technology...?"

"Six million stels of our work, gone!" Thunderwing slammed his fist into the side of the conical ship. "How long? Not even a half-megacycle! They invaded and overran us, like we were caught unprepared!"

"We were unprepared for their advanced systems, my lord," Bludgeon observed. "At least, as far as planetside was concerned. But we have the  _ WarWorld _ ."

"The  _ WarWorld _ was supposed to be reserved for when we took back Cybertron!"

"Plans may have to change, my lord," Bludgeon whispered humbly. "For now, let us concentrate on destroying the enemy at its source. Let us meet up with Roadblock."

"And thus history repeats yet again," Thunderwing, his rage ebbing somewhat, remarked. "We are driven away from our home."

"We will have vindication, my lord."

"Indeed we shall, Bludgeon. Indeed we shall."

*

For the most part, the battle both flagships observed was that between pawns; fighter ships careened and dodged, opening fire when they had clean shots, strafing what they could. Although the Cygnus Decepticons were highly skilled and agile, their fighters responding with lightning-fast reflexes, the Liege had the advantage of sheer numbers.

"Destroy all the smaller ships," Jhiaxus ordered his troops. "I want their flagship intact."

Roadblock, on the other hand, was becoming severely anxious. Here, they faced invaders that worked like well-oiled clockwork. His fighters were being destroyed quickly, efficiently, and mercilessly. He was reluctant to send out the siege ships just yet; however, after losing two of his bombers already, his options were narrowing swiftly.

"We're getting slaughtered, sir!" Icepick whimpered from his tactical station.

"Sir, Lord Thunderwing and Lord Bludgeon have just entered synchronous path with us!" Wildfly, a small orange and yellow hybrid of insectoid, avian, and humanoid, called out.

"Allow them to dock! I want two siege ships covering our tailpipes!" Roadblock ordered.

_ "Roadblock, this is Thunderwing,"  _ their leader hailed.  _ "Begin charging the primary weapon." _

"Aye, sir!" Redirecting the order to Icepick, Roadblock then added, "Call back the remaining fighters!"

"My liege," Rook beckoned, "sensors are picking up a large buildup of power from their flagship."

"A last resort weapon, no doubt," Jhiaxus nodded. "Inform shield ships to get into formation."

"Of course, my liege."

True to his name, Thunderwing stormed onto the bridge of the hulled out asteroid-turned-battleship, glaring at the scene revealed on the view screen.

"Bludgeon," he summoned, "what are they doing?"

"I believe, my lord, those may be shield bearers," Bludgeon retorted.

"They picked up our energy output," Roadblock added.

Thunderwing nodded. "Send three siege ships, five bombers, and the remaining fighters in full onslaught formation on their flagship."

"Stand down on the primary weapon, sir?" The large Pretender questioned.

"No." Thunderwing bowed his head, glaring at the screen.

"These warriors will die valiantly, with honour," Bludgeon agreed, picking up his lord's innuendo.

"I see." Roadblock exclaimed, somewhat apprehensive, before relaying his leader's orders.

"As soon as we fire, we will depart towards Rokkan space," Thunderwing ordered.

"Legion will follow, my lord," Bludgeon remarked.

"I am counting on that," Thunderwing revealed. "While the Rokkans keep these mockeries busy, we will then make our tactical move towards Cybertron."

"It will take us decacycles to get to Cybertron without use of a warp gate, sir," Roadblock stated.

"I am well aware of that," Thunderwing nodded. "Now...execute!"

*

Decepticons knowing they were going to die for a cause they believed in were d angerous.The remaining ten fighters, taking the front, led the bombers and siege ships at a furious speed, pushing their engines to maximum capability.

"What in the Pit are they doing?" Rook questioned his leader. Jhiaxus narrowed his optics with a growl.

"Desperation," he rumbled. "Send out our own bombers to take care of these clowns."

Ten bombers, slightly larger than Thunderwing's bombers, flew around the  _ Twilight  _ and the shield bearers, cycling their missiles in preparation.

"Sir, their primary weapon's output is still climbing!" the tactical officer shouted.

"Impressive," Jhiaxus remarked. "Perhaps these are worthy opponents after all."

"Should I call back the bombers?" Rook questioned, somewhat hushed.

"Negative. Let them believe what they want. Shields at maximum output."

"Ten enemy bombers have been deployed, my lord!" Icepick observed.

"Have the fighters and bombers deal with them, and the siege ships break through their defenses. Activate auto destruct once broken through their lines," Thunderwing ordered to Roadblock. "What is the starbreaker's level at?"

"Seventy-nine percent and climbing, my lord!" Wildfly answered quickly.

"Fire once siege ships have self-destructed."

"Of course, my lord!"

"Something is not right, my lord," Bludgeon hissed. "By now, they must realise our starbreaker's power output."

"And they still sent bombers out to stall our own, yes, I'm aware of that, Bludgeon," Thunderwing nodded. "We aren't dealing with Autobots, remember."

"This is a peculiar scenario, my lord."

"Indeed it is, old friend. Then again, we never expected to see Maximo's Legion ever again, either. Starbreaker status?"

"Ninety-four percent!"

"Siege ships have blitzed past our bombers, sir," the tactical officer reported.

"Let them through our shield bearers, and lock our plasma cannons on them," Jhiaxus commanded.

Outside, the battle of desperation grew more and more brutal, as the Cygnus fighter ships danced a precarious step around the slower bombers, occupying them as to allow the three siege ships to pass through the shield bearers and approach the asymmetrical  _ Twilight. _

"Plasma cannons locked, sir," Rook exclaimed.

"Fire," Jhiaxus nodded, just before the three ships simultaneously exploded in a shower of light, causing the massive flagship to rock violently in the wave of destruction.

*

"FIRE!" Thunderwing bellowed.

The bow of the monstrous  _ WarWorld _ brightened considerably just before it emitted a massive discharge of sheer energy, a wide, devastating wave that incinerated the bombers and fighters in the center of the battlefield.

*

Jhiaxus stood from his command chair, his optics wide as the wave approached, only slightly alarmed as it struck the shield bearers. A few were destroyed, as well as several others taking severe damage, and the wave continued towards the  _ Twilight. _

"All available power to ship shields!" Jhiaxus then barked.

The tactical officer said nothing, his fingers flying over the keyboard expertly as the lights in the bridge dimmed considerably, just as the starbreaker wave struck, shoving the  _ Twilight  _ back with a considerable force. A few more of their smaller, one- or two-manned ships that flanked either side of the massive ship, were also destroyed, but overall, the shield bearers and the  _ Twilight _ absorbed the brunt of the attack.

"Damage report," Jhiaxus demanded.

"Nothing critical," Rook exclaimed after a quick check of diagnostics. "Automated repairs already activated."

"Propulsion systems?"

"Nominal. No damage reported."

"Sir, the enemy is retreating!" the navigations officer interjected.

"Tag them and we'll deal with them later," the Liege Centuro ordered. "Right now, we have an agenda to complete." Sinking back in his chair, he smirked as he watched the  _ WarWorld _ backed up at full reverse, escaping with what few bombers and siege machines it had left. "Let them spread the word of us. We'll hunt them down in due time."


	6. Sor Immanis et Inanis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is it:: Starscream's goal is within reach. All he had to do is sever his few remaining tethers to his previous life and godhood is his to claim.
> 
> Meanwhie, the Autobots balance the crises of a missing Prime and an impending attack on the City, but as Grimlock regains his memories he had locked away, it's hard to predict their outcome.

Decepticon Hall of Leaders

Polyhex, Cybertron

It was a mausoleum now, no longer a state building for where the Decepticon Leaders held their power, but a tomb, a reminder.

One that was forgotten by all now, Autobot and Decepticon alike.

With a loud growl, the possessed Thundercracker stormed through the hallway in a sulk, his right arm sparking, useless, hanging at his side.

"You betray me, Skyfire," Starscream muttered, repeating. "You betray me...now more than ever, you abandoned me, betrayed me, left me to my enemies. You wound me in a way no Autobot could ever accomplish. I will not forget this!"

His anguished cry echoed painfully through the empty, dead air of the hallway; he allowed it to fade off before resuming his trek and his muttering.

"I promised both you and Artemis power and glory for aiding me," he snarled, "but you refused. I would have given you both fidelity, but you refused. You deserve nothing more than my hatred!"

Upon approach to a very familiar dais, in the center of the Hall of Leaders, he ascended the steps, slowly, purposefully.

Yes, as he figured, his goal was still there.

Dropping to his knees, Starscream picked up a handful of metallic debris. This pitiful little pile of rusty ashes was all that remained of his mortal shell, virtually undisturbed for over two stels. The extreme heat of plasma fire had been too fast to smelt him when it struck the killing blow; instead, it shattered and burned him at a molecular level, breaking him apart, the life-enhanced Cybertronian alloy crumbling to base ore.

"I will live again, my dearest friends," he hissed, a warning. "I will no longer have to rely on others to do my bidding. And my first decree will be to punish you both for your betrayal."

Gathering what he could of his own remains into a container, he then gazed upward, through the open portal above the dais, before touching off the jet engines, climbing into the night sky. It would be a strain on Thundercracker's exostructure to escape Cybertron's gravity well, true, but it wasn't impossible for the lone jet to break the planet's thin atmosphere and approach Unicron's head.

Victory for him was so close! Now, nothing would stand in his way!

The thought of having a shell of his own once again excited him further, and he laughed at the gods, rebellious, hysterical, a promise to the universe that he would live again.

***

Autobot City

It was one of those feelings one would get deep down in the spark, a sense of something terrible had happened.

Artemis had heard Minerva describe the feeling as though a black cat had jumped over your grave, whatever that meant. Still, it was enough to cross her arms over her chest and shiver, as though cold.

"What is it, lass?" Kup questioned earnestly, pushing his chair closer to the starlight black femme.

"Paranoia," she stated bluntly, returning to her monitoring.

"You know, you're beginning to sound like me," he chuckled.

"That's a scary thought," she retorted dryly, her attention brought to a hailing frequency. "Sunstreaker and Sideswipe checking in. Looks like Dirge and Thrust either didn't see them or are ignoring them. Still waiting on Silverbolt and his boys. I'm going to give them about ten more cycles before I call them."

"Okay, my curiosity is killing me," Kup threw his hands up in the air. "What the hell is going on between you and Magnus?"

"We came to an understanding. Why, you want us to continue fighting?"

"No, no...it just seems-"

"Weird?" With a sharp chortle, Artemis nodded. "You're not the only one, old man."

" _ Kehchek dro! Artemis, kehchek dro!" _

"Dro kehchek kis, Garotte. Breen?"

Upon Garotte's hail, Kup realised he wasn't going to get any more information on the matter, especially when Artemis's optics narrowed, her jaw set firm as she listened intently on the series of the alien growls and syllables.

"Dohka kus jys!" Artemis exclaimed. "Get the hell out of there, ASAP!"

_ "Don't need to tell me twice. Garotte out." _

"What happened?" Kup demanded.

Artemis inhaled, exhaled, and stared up at the ceiling.

"Galvatron managed to convince the Predacons to side with him. I don't know how, but he did. They're at full power, plus she found evidence that there's another gestalt in the works." Rubbing her optics, she groaned. "He's had an ace up his gauntlet all this time and I didn't realise it...dammit!"

"How could you have known?" Kup demanded. "Look, you've done all you could at this point-"

"I'm supposed to be an informant-"

"You're an Autobot, lass. Your connection with the Decepticons have been severed, you just have to accept that now." Standing, he patted her shoulder. "Look on the bright side: you being here brought one of the most powerful empires to help us. You don't need to be an informant any more."

_ "Kup! We need you in Perceptor's laboratory ASAP!" _ Ultra Magnus's voice barked out urgently.

"I wonder who got blown up this time," Kup grumbled. "Keep up your vigil, lass; this shouldn't take long."

Watching him leave, she glared out at the hallway, deep in thought.

That phantom dread still weighed heavy in her spark. It wasn't caused by Starscream; at this point, she hoped he did get a new shell just so she could get a chance to kill him herself. A Decepticon's joy, no doubt, but hey, revenge was a bitch, especially when toting a high-powered multifunction rifle. No, this dread was caused by more of an immediate sense, as though something terrible had happened within the city limits.

_ Missing... _ A foggy voice from where dreams originated whispered within her CPU.  _ Someone is missing...an empty void in the Matrix... _

"What the hell?" Swiping away at the ghostly wisps, she exclaimed, "I don't need this slag right now!" before resuming her duties.

"Silverbolt, what's your sit? Over," she hailed, more to keep her mind on the situation at hand.

A jumble of static answered her before another's voice broke through with a crackle.  _ "Superion here. We're in pursuit of Predaking. He's heading towards the US border, and from what we can tell, he's heading straight to Autobot City! Requesting orders!" _

Predaking. Rogue Decepticons, the Predacons were frightening even the Mighty Megatron at one point. If there was one combining team that could make Devastator back down, it would be the Predacons, not because they overpowered the Constructicons, far from it. It was the sole fact that the Predacons were borderline feral, allowing an animal instinct to drive them, in a way that not even Devastator's battle logic could ascertain.

"Slot! Magnus!" She barked. "We've got a situation!"

_ "Make that two!"  _ Magnus snapped back.  _ "Is it something you can handle? We've got our own here!" _

Taking a thought-clearing breath, she nodded. "Yeah, I think I can handle it."

_ Something's wrong,  _ she rationed.  _ Something's dead wrong. _

"Superion, stall Predaking," She ordered swiftly, . "If he's too much for you, fall back! Metroplex, give me a roster of all available Autobots within the City!"

On a nearby monitor, a three-dimensional wire schematic of the city appeared in rotation as names of Autobots and their locations pointed out scrolled upward on screen.

"Hotspot, we've got Predaking approaching from the north. Superion's in pursuit, but may need backup!" Fingers flying over the keypad, Artemis's clear blue optics studied the roster. A slight confusion rose her hackles as she realised they were missing a warm body.

"Metroplex, locate Rodimus Prime," she ordered.

_ Unable to comply,  _ flashed across the screen.

_ What?  _ "Metroplex, where was the last known whereabouts of Rodimus Prime?"

The schematic returned, flashing a dot over Perceptor's laboratory.

"Oh, slot," she grumbled, putting two and two together. "Metroplex, had anything happened in Perceptor's laboratory at the time of Rodimus Prime's departure?"

_ Affirmative. An explosion of unknown origin. _

"Oh, slot," she repeated, slumping into her chair. "What happened?"

_ Unclear at this time. Awaiting report from Perceptor and Ultra Magnus. _

This was not good.

_ All right, Arty, take a deep breath and think straight,  _ she mentally ordered herself.  _ You've done this before, when Barak tested you...you can handle this. _

Setting her jaw, she thumbed the intercom button to Perceptor's lab.

"All right, boys, listen up: we've got Predaking moving in, with Superion attempting to at least stall them. Defensor is on standby. We've lost our scouting advantage, so if you want my humble opinion, you sort out the chain of command ASA-slottin'-P and step up to at least orange alert, because we know damn well Galvatron's not going to send Predaking alone!" Without waiting for a reply, she turned off the intercom. "Metroplex, activate Skyspy and maintain surveillance, northwestern United States. I want to know if the Decepticons deviate from a direct path here, I want to know if they get within thirty kilometers of the City, I want to know anything that seems out of the ordinary, and I want updates every five cycles."

Without flourish, she stood, bolting out into the hallway. It was time to get some more in depth answers.

*

Once again, Cavalier could count on Rodimus to get her out of a mess.

Finding the information was no problem. Thanks to Ultra Magnus's predictability, she was able to access the data she needed without hacking into the Teletran's mainframe, thus leaving trails that a skilled computer expert could trace back to her.

With a quick scan of the hallway to assure that it was indeed empty, she slipped back into the rec room, where, sure enough, the Dinobots were watching a DVD of Yu-Gi-Oh.

"You know, that show will rot your CPU," she commented flippantly, tossing the disc in a slim case towards Swoop, who caught it deftly.

"What that?" Sludge questioned, craning his neck over Swoop's shoulder.

"That is the key, my friends," Cavalier fell onto the couch next to Swoop. Grimlock brought his snout millimeters to her face, unblinking.

"That key to Grimlock's brain?" he asked.

"Could be," the slight femme nodded. "It's what happened in 2002 here on Earth. I figure it's a start. I'm figuring that if your memories are simply locked, all you have to do is be reminded of what happened."

"Cavalier the best!" Grimlock whooped, taking the disc from Swoop's grip. Examining the case, he then scratched his cheek in confusion. "Um...what Grimlock do now?"

"Okay, this is where it gets tricky," she stood again, exaggerating a hipshot as she took out a palm-sized computer from a side compartment. Pulling out a port interface, she connected it to the computer and pressed a button on the side, ejecting a disc tray. "All right, Grimmy...I need that disc for a click. Also, you need to be in robot mode for this to fully work."

Reluctantly, the Dinobot leader did as he was told. As she popped open the case with one hand and slid the disc expertly into the computer, she watched as he transformed. Now towering over her by almost three head-length, Grimlock then knelt on one knee before her.

"Grimlock hope this work," he stated simply.

"So do I," she nodded. "Because if it doesn't, I'm going to get into so much trouble."

"Grimlock defend Cavalier," he assured. "Cavalier won't get into trouble because of Grimlock."

"Don't worry about that, amigo," she winked, however her jest wavered on some uncertainty. Handing him the interface cable, she then stated, "I'm gonna need you to jack into that for the download."

She had expected some hesitance; most Autobots in their right mind would be at least uncomfortable in the fact of yanking out their interface cable and uplinking to a strange computer. However, Grimlock complied, his optics lighting up excitedly, almost hungrily, as he opened up his abdomen panel and presented to her his interface cable to the white and black Autobot.

"Aren't we the exhibitionist?" she jested, hooking up the cables and then, sitting before Grimlock with her legs crossed, she set the computer in her lap and began plucking at the keypad. "Okay, Grimmy, I'm going to run this at 16x speed so that you don't get an ice cream headache...in other words, I'm uploading this slowly so that it won't hurt."

"Why it hurt?"

"Because, in essence, I'm pretty much forcing a set of memories into you."

"But Grimlock let Cavalier do it. Cavalier not forcing anything onto Grimlock."

"You know that, and I know that, but the base programming doesn't." She sighed, resting an elbow on her knee. "Are you sure you want to do this, Grimmy?"

Grimlock folded his legs underneath him, almost mirroring her posture, only with his arms draped over his knees, meeting her gaze. Her optics widened somewhat, clearly seeing both the child she had always perceived the Dinobot to be, as well as a certain intelligence aching to be released.

"Grimlock sure," he nodded. "Grimlock never been surer in all life. Grimlock want to help friends. Grimlock can't do it being stupid."

The slight Autobot femme's optics blinked quickly, before dropping her gaze down at her computer once more.

"That's a good enough answer for me, you know," she whispered, executing the run program.

The Dinobot leader stiffened considerably, his head snapping upward, red optics widening as his hands on his knees shook somewhat.

Cavalier found herself unable to watch; however, the other Dinobots surrounded her and their leader, Swoop taking a seat next to the femme.

"Grimlock in pain," Swoop whimpered, more in awe than anything. "What going on?"

"Data transfer," she answered simply, her head still bowed. "Upload's almost completed. Another thirty clicks..."

And those clicks ticked away in silence before Grimlock finally relaxed, his head slumping to his chest. Swiftly, gently, Cavalier unhooked her computer from Grimlock, biting her ruined lip under her faceplate.

"I hope I did the right thing, Primus," she breathed, just as Grimlock took hold of her wrist in a firm grip. He stood, coaxing her to do the same as his heavy gaze rested on her. Why she found herself balking to Grimlock and not Magnus was simple logic: Magnus was predictable, methodical, by the book. Grimlock was none of that.

Still, he lifted his head, regarding his team before releasing Cavalier's wrist.

"Leave," he ordered sternly, however lacking his normal strength. "Me must think. Alone."

"I'm sorry," Cavalier hissed, backing up against Swoop accidentally. The pterodactyl caught her, placing an almost protective hand on her shoulder.

"What wrong, Grimlock?" Sludge questioned.

"Nothing to be sorry for," he rebutted, turning his back on the five. "No regret nothing, Cavalier. You no betray Autobots. Now leave me. Me join you later. Swoop in charge of Dinobots until then."

"We leave," Swoop agreed reluctantly, steering Cavalier out of the room, with the other three Dinobots following.

Grimlock waited for the door to close behind him before hiding his face in his palm.

"Me, other hand, have lots to regret," he muttered. "Me not ask for forgiveness, Optimus. Me not deserve it."

*

"What Cavalier do to Grimlock?" Snarl demanded angrily once they were in the hallway. Taking a threatening step forward, he was stopped by Swoop's hand gesturing a universal stop.

"Cavalier help Grimlock. He ask her favour and she help," Swoop explained forcefully, almost challenging. "Grimlock our leader. What he say law to Dinobots."

"Grimlock be okay?" Sludge directed to the femme. Before she could reply, Swoop nodded.

"Grimlock will be okay, like he was before," the flier stated.

"Me Slag not remember Grimlock before," Slag grumbled, itching his horns against the wall of the hallway.

"Me Sludge remember, me think."

"Me Swoop say Dinobots are forgetful," Swoop crossed his arms over his chest with a puff. "Me Swoop remember what happen."

"Good that Swoop know," Grimlock retorted, rejoining the five. "Swoop always remember. Me count on that."

"Grimlock all right?" Snarl demanded, almost suspiciously.

Grimlock nodded once, regarding the small Autobot amongst them. "Me thank you, Cavalier. No worry about trouble; me defend you."

"I was worried I might have triggered something else entirely, to tell you the truth, big guy," she chuckled, still somewhat nervous.

"Me understand. Dinobots, go to courtyard. Wait orders. Me need to talk to Kup. Cavalier, as you were."

"Goof off and find some other trouble to get into. Gotcha."

A stern glare from him caused her to duck her head and make a small "eep" sound.

"Or I could scan possible Decepticon frequencies," she corrected swiftly, turning sharply on her heel to leave.

With a slight snort, the Dinobot leader began his trek towards the command hub of the city.

Like a floodgate, memories of his past welled up, nearly overwhelming him. He remembered everything that he had forgotten six earth years prior, right up to betraying his people, not to mention the one person whom he respected and actually considered a brother-at-arms. He remembered the aftermath, in San Francisco, that April of 2002, the destruction he helped Megatron caused, and realised that moment that he had been so terribly wrong.

Megatron had told him to look at the big picture of the universe, and he did. But in doing so, he realised the Decepticons, in doing such, saw too big of the picture, and missed what they inadvertently stepped on in the process. Grimlock fell into that trap, and hard.

Although he did not feel he deserved forgiveness from his Autobot comrades, he knew what made him more Autobot than Decepticon.

Optimus freed him from his imprisonment of rubble and debris that had been at one point a commercial skyscraper. How many people died in the collapse, Grimlock did not know; what mattered, he realised as the structure had fallen onto him, like heaven breaking apart, in a rain of retribution, was that people still died. People like his friends Spike, Sparkplug, Carly, Chip...

_...Daniel... _

He had up to that point differentiated between those humans he knew and those he did not. When he laid trapped amongst the human souls of that skyscraper, the only difference between those whom he had called friends and those who had died because of his error was that he merely did not take the time to say hello to them.

He could not face Optimus, could not look his old friend in the optics. Rather, he walked away.

But Optimus still found him, nonetheless.

It was then when Grimlock begged him to erase his memories of what had happened. Begged! The mighty leader of the Dinobots did not ask for forgiveness, only to start anew.  _ Let him learn humility with a fresh look at life! Please, Optimus, me beg of you! _

It took a massive amount of convincing, but finally, reluctantly, Optimus agreed, and with Perceptor's help, presumably erased his datatracks so that he could start anew.

Silly Grimlock. Should have known better that Optimus would not do such thing.

Grimlock's first memory after that had been waking up to find a young human male with auburn hair, about six years old, staring up at him in awe.

Daniel...his first friend.

_ "Can I take you to school for show and tell?" _

_ "Can me Grimlock go to school with Daniel?" _

He remembered it all now. What he had been, what he had become in the end result...

Still, it was unlike Optimus to hold a grudge, nor was it for him to deny forgiveness, even when it wasn't asked for.

Grimlock had learned humility, but still maintained his hold on his warrior's pride. Forgiveness, like trust and respect, had to be earned, and he had done nothing to earn it. Not yet.

But Optimus was gone. Dead. Buried. A new Prime had taken his place. Regardless, he held Rodimus in high regards, but not like he did Optimus. Rodimus earned his respect by being a friend first.

Grimlock had learned the value of friendship, the Dinobot realised abruptly, just before turning a corner, almost running headlong into the gloss black and chrome Autobot femme.

Artemis sidestepped expertly from his path, her optics expressing a thoughtful determination, before grabbing hold of Grimlock's arm.

"We've got a situation," she initiated in a low tone. "Galvatron's sent Predaking towards us, and no doubt he's got backup right behind him."

"Where Magnus and Kup?" Grimlock questioned firmly.

"Sorting out chain of command." Her retort was crisp, quick. "At least from what I can tell. I don't know the details."

"Already got Dinobots in courtyard. Me inform them to be on guard. Know where Magnus and Kup are?"

His words finally sunk in, as the former mercenary regarded Grimlock in a new light.

"In Perceptor's lab," she answered, almost skeptically. "Grimlock, what-"

"No time. Explain later."

She granted him a bewildered gaze as he thundered past her. Shaking her head, she resumed her trek to find Jazz.

***

Covenant of Primus

Iacon, Cybertron

Religion was an excuse to explain what could not explain. "How does this work?" "It is the will of Primus." "Why does this do this?" "It is the will of Primus." Darxtar could have thought of better places to be than inside a dusty old church with a zealous emirate.

Still, Xaaron greeted him formally and civilly, but addressed Elita exclusively.

"You are troubled," he observed. "What has happened?"

"Two words, Xaaron," Darxtar interrupted, his voice angry, intolerant. "Liege Maximo."

To this, the emirate's optics darted back to the Decepticon.

"What?"

"Liege Maximo." This time, Darxtar punctuated each syllable. "At least, all signs point to him. He's behind the attacks of Seti VIII and Paradron, and probably countless more. Just this one hit a little close to home."

_ Those who were cast from Primus's dream shall return to challenge his children once more, and these will be called Legion. _

Both Elita and Xaaron's head snapped up as the lank, cloaked keeper joined them silently in the dim hallway of the covenant. Darxtar paused, not because he heard the keeper's not-words, but because he was not expecting company other than the emirate.

"Who's that?" the Decepticon demanded.

"Your Grace, do you mean these he speaks of...?"

_ He speaks of Legion, those who the Sentinel had cast from Primus's dream. _

"Then the events of the prophesies have begun," Xaaron whispered.

"What's going on, girl?" Darxtar demanded to the rose femme. "Why ain't this guy talking?"

"You can't hear him," Elita exclaimed softly. "But he says that it’s part of a prophecy laid out by the Covenant."

"And you believe this bunk?" Darxtar rebutted.

"I don't know what to believe right now," she answered earnestly.

_ I bring even graver news, _ the keeper hissed, its head bowed.  _ The Chosen One has been lost. The Vanguard will take his place, but you must be by his side when he too falls. _

"Rodimus...? Lost? How?"

_ I only know what Primus dreams. And Primus had dreamt the Chosen One has been lost. The Vanguard has reclaimed the Matrix, but he is only a temporary solution. He will fall, and you shall take his place to stand against Legion. _

Elita clenched her fist against her leg, fighting whether to chide the keeper for being so cold, so indifferent...but restrained herself, chin down.

"I cannot leave Cybertron," she stated firmly.

_ You must. For the sake of the Autobots, you must. _

"I hate being left out of a conversation...what's going on here?" Darxtar demanded.

"Nothing that concerns you," Xaaron retorted, a bit too quickly.

_ You search for the Engineer for the answers, but he will not be able to answer them all. You must go to Earth and complete the prophecy, else we are all damned. _

"Then I will go," she finally agreed. "But to save Magnus."

"Hey, what about Alpha Trion-" Darxtar was interrupted by Elita placing a hand on his arm.

"Our answer is on Earth," she affirmed, her blue optics fighting confusion. "I will require your assistance getting there, Darxtar. Please."

With a groan, Darxtar shook his head, although it was to clear his thoughts than to disagree.

"All right, girl. Only because you know what we're looking for."

"Thank you." Sighing heavily, Elita gave Xaaron her goodbyes and departed, leading Darxtar out of the covenant and back to the street leading to the command hub.

"This is slag, girl," the rogue Decepticon warned. "Nothing but religious slag. It's gonna get us killed if we follow it-"

"We don't have a choice, Darxtar. I don't want to be convinced either, but there are too many coincidences. Too many possibilities for disaster."

"Yeah, yeah...might as well gather up the kid-"

_ "Elita, this is Firestar! We have a situation!" _

Darxtar groaned a second time, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I'll bet good money it has to do with Starscream," he grumbled.

"Elita-One here. What happened?"

_ "Thundercracker, or rather, Starscream, as both Skyfire and Apollo report, pretty much took off towards Polyhex. I've already sent Sky Patrol to intercept, but it doesn't look good. Skyfire thinks he'll return to Unicron. Advise?" _

"What did I tell you?" Hiding his face with his hand, Darxtar growled, muffled. "I should have killed him when I had the chance-slot. He took Thundercracker?"

"I hate to say it, Darxtar, but I think Starscream may be out of everyone's league," Elita hissed. "Especially now."

"Want my advice, girl?" Dropping his hand, he looked squarely into her gaze. "Fine. Let him get what he wants, for now. Moment he gets a shell, he becomes mortal, and then containable. It's the only thing we can do right now. Otherwise, he will continue to make our lives a living hell." Tossing a key card to Elita, he then exclaimed, "Take  _ Little Vengeance _ and head to earth. I'll meet up with you there."

"What are you going to do?"

"I've gotta get my employee's skidplates out of the fire, that's what. I'll dig up Skyfire, don't worry about me." Without waiting for an affirmation, he transformed into an old-style Cybertronian tetrajet, and shot off into the stratosphere, a trail of exhaust marking his path.

Elita only stared down at the keycard in her hands, and realised she didn't have much time.

"Have Sky Patrol in an observation pattern, Firestar. Starscream is impossible to deal with until he actually has a shell; Darxtar is dealing with Thundercracker," she explained slowly through her comlink. "I have matters to attend to on Earth; you're in charge until I get back."

There was a slight pause before Firestar affirmed she had received instructions. " _ Good luck, Elita. Firestar out." _

With a purposeful step, Elita resumed her trek to the command hub, towards the space docks.

***

Cybertronian Orbit

_ You have returned. _

"Of course I did!" With huff, Starscream landed before the massive structure of Unicron's core, only dimly aware of the strain his brother's shell had taken from the abuse from the high velocity escape of Cybertron's atmosphere. Presenting the container of ashes with both hands, Starscream waited, however impatiently, for the dead god's anwer.

_ It does not bother you that you present your mortal remains to me. _

"Why should it?"

_ It was merely an observation. And I suppose you would like to know of your third task. _

"Yes, what is the third task?" Starscream's voice took a mocking tone.

_ The third task comprises of two parts- _

"Then that would be two more tasks, not three."

_ The final task,  _ Unicron stressed,  _ consists of two parts, both related to one another. The Chosen One has been cast from this universe, the Matrix with their new leader, Ultra Magnus. _

"And I am to kill Ultra Magnus and destroy the Matrix, correct?"

_ You are highly presumptuous, Starscream. No, the first part of the third task will be merely to observe and report back to me of the status of the Autobots. _

"You knew that the brat was gone. Why do you need me to 'observe' when you in fact are capable-"

_ Once again, you assume incorrectly. I sense the Matrix. I sense what is around the Matrix. I cannot see any further. You shall be my senses for this task, and when you report back with your findings on this children's melee the Autobots and Decepticons are preparing for, I will give you the second part of the task, in addition to a new shell for which you will need to execute said task. Is this understood? _

"Clearly, but don't you think that may be overkill? After all, you have control of Soundwave."

_ You are dangerously becoming a nuisance, Starscream. Soundwave is incapacitated by my virus, and I do not have full control of his functions. Now, do you have any more questions, or shall I simply null and void our agreement? _

"You can't do that!" Starscream protested.

_ Do you really want to take that chance? After all, I am the only one who will grant you what you desire. _

Setting his jaw, Starscream glowered at the dead god's CPU, his optics narrowing, before dropping the container at his feet, pivoting sharply, away from Unicron.

*

It took a massive amount of boost to escape Cybertron's atmosphere. It wasn't as difficult as it would have been on a heavier atmosphere such as Sol III or Sirius II, but still, if one did not have the actual capability for space flight, it could prove a challenge; even then, one must be fueled completely before taking off.

Skyfire had already contacted Darxtar, tailing behind him by a good fifty kilometers; a short jaunt for outfitted star cruisers, really. In essence, Darxtar was a short range space fighter. Skyfire was the long hauler, and he would need that advantage to reach Earth, with Elita taking the  _ Little Vengeance. _

_ Why not let her go with Skyfire?  _ Darxtar questioned himself. Simple: he wanted Skyfire with him.  _ Why? _ Strength in numbers. Skyfire recognized what had happened to Thundercracker when Starscream possessed him.

Darxtar would not normally believe in ghosts. Ghosts were up there with religion.

But leave it to Starscream to not only prove the existence of ghosts, but also make certain that Darxtar would not like them, not in the least.

Approaching the decapitated head of Unicron, Darxtar transformed back into his robot mode, hovering before the small moon, allowing Unicron's own gravity well to draw him in slowly.

Time to think strategy.

Unhitching his rifle from his hip, the former mercenary steadied his descent, firing off his propulsion units in short bursts to steer himself towards Unicron's empty optics. Flicking the safety off as he landed with an unnatural grace, Darxtar scanned his surroundings before pressing forward, vigilant.

"You're too late, old man," Starscream's voice called out, echoing through the empty passages of Unicron's head. "You can't stop me even if you tried your very best. It would all be in vain."

"Yeah, just keep talking, you rust-aft no-good carbonslottin' glitch," Darxtar grumbled more to himself than anything.

"What? No witty remark? No snide retort? Truly, I'm disappointed."

"You know what really bothered me about this whole ordeal, you freeloader?" Darxtar finally exclaimed aloud.

"It has to do with Artemis, doesn't it?" Starscream demanded after a half cycle pause. "She didn't die, did she?"

"No thanks to you."

"Good," His voice actually seemed revealed to hear Darxtar's admission. "You'd think it would be a serious pain in the afterburner not to be able to fly."

Starscream was making conversation, of course attempting to rub in the fact that he had struck below Darxtar's belt; however, the comment seemed a bit off to the old Decepticon.

"You forgot she couldn't fly," he struck an epiphany.

"I said no such thing!"

_ Oop! A little too quick, Screamer!  _ Darxtar thought, now chuckling in cruel mirth. "You truly thought you could fly off, didn't you?"

"You presume falsehoods!" Starscream protested, his shrill tone bouncing painfully against the metal walls with a slight stutter.

"How stupid is that?" This time, Darxtar let out a big guffaw. "You possessed an Autobot with an extreme fear of heights, not to mention the fact she couldn't fly-"

"SHUT UP!"

"-and you expected to fly away to freedom!"

"I WILL SMITE YOU FOR THIS!"

"That has got to be the most idiotic escape attempt I have ever heard!"

The sounds of heavy running pounding down the corridor brought Darxtar to high alert, his rifle ready.  _ Oh, hell, what's one more twist of the knife? _ "Wait until I tell the gang! They'll be in hysterics for stels!"

Thundercracker's form lunged for him with a banshee's shriek, his left hand clawed, ready to gouge Darxtar's remaining optic out; the right hung useless at his side. With a swift sidestep, Darxtar swung his arm underneath Thundercracker, punching him hard into the abdomen, enough to crack his canopy. The impact caused the possessed Seeker to spin in a full roll before Darxtar's elbow connected with the back of his neck. Hitting the floor hard, the Seeker groaned, just as Darxtar propped one foot on Thundercracker's back, the barrel of his gun nestled against the back of the younger Decepticon's head.

"This ain't Serendipity, Screamer," Darxtar reminded casually. "I can grant Thundy a quick death, thus taking you to the other side with him, or you can release him."

"You can have him!" Starscream snarled. "I'm finished using him anyway!"

Quite suddenly, a bright ball of light burst from the prone Seeker's back, shooting deeper into Unicron's head, fading off swiftly.

With a growl, Darxtar took hold of Thundercracker's left arm and hoisted him up to a standing position. "You all right, boy?" the bartender demanded, releasing the younger Decepticon. 

Thundercracker shook his head, but stood, rather shakenly, before delivering a fierce right jab to the elder's midsection. "You bastard!" Thundercracker spat as Darxtar dropped his rifle, doubling over in pain. "I came to you for help and this is what I get?"

"Your bitch is with your brother, Thundercracker, not me," Darxtar huffed. "I came back for you, remember?"

"You threatened to kill me!"

"Threats and promises are two different things," the older Decepticon snarled. "What did you want me to do? Leave you to Starscream's plan?"

Thundercracker growled, but stood down, bowing his head and averting his smoldering glare. "I can't move my right arm," he grumbled simply as the vibration of jet engines stirred the thin, dead air.

"Skyfire had tried to scare Starscream off," Darxtar explained simply. "He didn't mean to hit you."

"He was always a lousy shot, anyway," Thundercracker grumbled as they both approached the large white and red Autobot transport. "Speak of the devil..."

"I don't like this," Skyfire exclaimed. "There was no atmosphere when I was here earlier."

"We'll worry about that later," the former mercenary retorted. "Right now, let's get the slot out of here."

"Where are we going?" Thundercracker questioned. "Hopefully someplace I can get my arm repaired..."

"We'll look at it on the way to Earth," Darxtar remarked.

"No." Thundercracker stopped dead in his tracks. "My intention was to stay on Sirius II. I didn't want to go to Cygnus VII, I didn't want to go to Cybertron, and I sure as hell don't want to go to Earth, especially with Galvatron there."

"You don't have a choice," Darxtar snarled, standing toe to toe with the Seeker; even standing a good head shorter than Thundercracker, he was still able to hold a fierce glare. "The only ones who can fix that arm are the Junkions. Same thing happened to Art, remember? You want it fixed? We go to Earth. I happen to have business there, so you lucked out. Now shift it!"

"I don't like this, Darxtar, one bit," Thundercracker stressed as the two boarded Skyfire.

***

Autobot City

Earth

Perceptor was beyond nervous, beyond distraught.

He sat in a compromising position, legs apart with his elbows on his knees and his head bowed, exposing his neck for the proverbial guillotine.

"I should have stressed the imminent danger," Perceptor whimpered. "I should have stopped him when I had had the chance...had I known of his intention-"

"Enough, Perceptor," Ultra Magnus snapped curtly, his optics hidden under his hand.

"Lad, it wasn't your fault," Kup reassured, clapping a hand on the scientist's shoulder. "Accidents do happen. Kids have a natural curiosity to them, and as much as we would like to believe otherwise, Rodimus is still a kid."

"'Is?'" Magnus stressed.

"I ain't giving my hopes up," Kup exclaimed sternly. "I'm not going to say I understood all of Perceptor's gasket-blown theories, but the way he explained it, Rodimus-Hot Rod-could be just about anywhere. If he were dead, we'd know it." Looking down at his feet, where the Matrix laid in innocence between the two soldiers, he sighed. "Still doesn't explain why the Matrix is still here, though."

"Let's be realistic, Kup," Magnus interjected. "Dead or not, he's still lost to us. We have an attack by the Decepticons pending-"

"-Liege Decepticons rearing their butt-ugly heads, Unicron's cam clanking, engine-seizing virus, Starscream being even more of a thorn in our sides, and of course, your old-stroke-new flame giving you orders."

To this, Magnus awarded Kup with a very irritated glare. "I'm not in the mood right now, Kup."

"Where Rodimus?" Grimlock's voice brought their attentions to the Dinobot in the doorway, now in robot mode, his face even more unreadable than his normal, clueless optic expression.

With a sharp exhale, Kup answered "Gone."

"He missing?"

"Yes, Grimlock. He is."

"Not on own volition."

"That's right, Grimlock-" Kup's exasperated expression ebbed into surprise. "Since when was 'volition' in your vocabulary?"

"In old days, me would claim leader," the Dinobot growled, ignoring Kup's previous question. "But old days gone. Optimus dead. Me not deserve to claim leader now. Me carry burden of shame instead."

"His memory block had degraded," Perceptor whispered in stark realisation. "But how?"

"No matter now," Grimlock snapped, his optics now burning brightly. "What matter now is Autobots need strong strong, Optimus and Rodimus trusted Magnus; me pledge sword to Magnus now."

"This day is just getting stranger and stranger," Kup commented as Grimlock knelt down to pick up the Matrix at Magnus's feet. Standing once more, he held it out to the city commander, now unmoving, his gaze locking onto Magnus's.

The Dinobot's hand shook only slightly, steadying after only a moment.

"Take it," Grimlock ordered. "Me not deserve Optimus's forgiveness!"

Reaching out, Magnus finally took the artifact in both his hands, staring into the glowing blue center of the Matrix.

_ I had forgiven you long ago, Grimlock, old friend,  _ Grimlock heard, in barest of whispers, as the Matrix passed from his hands. _ Now you must forgive yourself. _

"Can't." Shaking his head, Grimlock cast his gaze down, as though praying, before meeting Ultra Magnus's optics once more, with burning passion for battle...and perhaps a desire for redemption as well.

"We take care of Decepticons, then we find Rodimus," Grimlock ordered. "Magnus keep Matrix safe until we find Rodimus."

"Face the immediate threat first. As much as I want to keep Hot Rod a priority, we need to keep our focus on Galvatron." Magnus responded as he willed his chest compartment open.

"Artemis say Predaking on way here," Grimlock explained quickly as the city commander placed the Matrix safely within his chest cavity. "Gone to alert others. Only you give command to move out."

"Perceptor, pinpoint what exactly happened to Hot Rod," Magnus commanded. "I want to know if we can find him, preferably alive."

"Yes, sir!" Perceptor nodded quickly, still all nerves at the situation.

"Wreck-Gar, you're with us!" Kup snapped as he exited with Magnus and Grimlock, the Junkion leader following with a babble of "All right, kemosabes, let's go forth and let slip the dogs of war, oh my god they killed Kenny go for the gusto!" or something to that extent; Kup was not exactly paying too much attention to Wreck-Gar's blathering.

"Give us a sign you're all right, lad," Kup whispered under his breath for no one to hear, in silent prayer.

*

_ What is it you desire, Vanguard? _

_ I desire nothing, only to serve my duty to the Autobots. _

_ Then so be it, Ultra Magnus. _

_ *** _

For a Decepticon, Octane was too damn likable.

He seemed to have an uncanny knack of making himself at home anywhere he went, as though he belonged there in the first place. A lone Decepticon amongst Autobots, and he acted as though Bumblebee and Jazz were his long time best friends.

Although it had been a good five cycles since either Autobot got a word in, as Octane did most of the talking, non-stop.

"You know, I should have bailed when Screamer booted the ol' buckethead, but, hey, you know, Screamer and his bros had been old buddies of mine since the Golden Age, so I figured to tag along. What the hell-though after learning he let Skywarp float off into deep space...that was cold, really cold." At this point, his voice dropped considerably, his optics betraying hurt feelings. "Skywarp was my best bud. He might have not been the brightest light bulb in the factory, but he was great fun to hang out and get drunk with. Anyway, since Galvie started really going nuts, I decided it was high time to split. But, me being me, I had to do it in style. Which explains Trypticon doing the walking pan with the sunset deal. But you already heard that already; anyway, best place for me I figured was here, mainly because you guys wouldn't exactly execute me on sight, I had some old friends you took in in the past-that's Arty and Skyfire, by the way-and not to mention the femmes-oh, Primus, the femmes!"

"I can see why you like him," Bumblebee commented lightly to Jazz, who was beyond fighting a chuckle.

"Bumblebee!" A shout from behind the three brought their attentions to the newcomer Sandstorm, jogging down the corridor towards them. "Kup told me to tag along with you guys until-"

The abrupt halt in mid-sentence was enough to alert both Bumblebee and Jazz that something was wrong, as Octane's gaze cast a confused expression down at the now glowering glare of Sandstorm. The smaller triplechanger's fist shook before rounding into an accusing point towards the defected Decepticon.

"You...!" he managed to burst out, fighting emotion to keep his logic in place, to little avail.

Octane blinked, stepping back defensively, before holding up his hands in defeat.

"Honest! I didn't know she was your sister!" he protested, hiding his face. "I'm sorry!"

The reactions from this were mixed. Sandstorm's anger suddenly ebbed into confusion, both expression and posture dropping somewhat, while Bumblebee faltered verbally, making little, embarrassed noises. Jazz, however, threw back his head in a fit of laughter.

"Huh? You mean that's not what you were after me for?" Octane questioned, rubbing the back of his head with a nervous chuckle. "Sorry about that, it's an automatic response."

"My planet was destroyed by your people!" Sandstorm managed to compose himself swiftly, stamping his foot hard, pointing the accusatory finger once more. Octane's nominally whimsical smile suddenly grew cold.

"My 'people,' as you so eloquently put it, couldn't crash a party, let alone destroy a planet," the Decepticon rebutted. "Not that it matters or anything, shorty; I ain't hanging around those deadbeats any more. Got no reason to. So don't blame me for anything my 'people' did, especially if it is under Galvatron's orders."

"Easy, Sandstorm," Bumblebee warned, placing a hand on Sandstorm's shoulder. Jazz did the same to Octane, prepared to break up any potential fight. "Octane left the Decepticons. He's got sanctuary while he's here."

"Yeah, man, simmer down!" Jazz added. "We already figured out Galvatron can't be behind vaping those planets; he ain't got the resources."

"Elita said those who destroyed Paradron were Decepticons!" Sandstorm rifled back.

"And all Decepticons are butt-ugly recluses like on Cygnus VII!" Octane snapped. "Chill out, stumpy, I'm not your enemy."

"And how do I know that?"

"Because you'd be flat on your back with a gaping hole in your chest if I was." Shaking Jazz's hand off his shoulder, he then stepped forward, extending his hand towards Sandstorm. "Look, buddy, neither of us are going to get anywhere picking a fight. If I wanted that, I would have stayed with Galvatron and his cronies. So what do you say? Truce?"

Sandstorm exhaled forcibly before nodding, taking hold of Octane's hand, returning the gesture.

"Fine," he agreed.

"Good," Octane grinned, before yanking the Autobot forward and locked his arm around Sandstorm's neck, half-dragging the orange and black Autobot down the corridor with him. "We're gonna be such great friends, er...what was your name? Sandstorm? Whatever, let's find some ladies. You with us, Jazz? BB?"

"Right behind you, man!" Jazz laughed, as Bumblebee hid his face in apparent however minor annoyance.

*

"And here we have a feisty one...let's sneak up on her and grope her shamelessly."

Octane's fake accent behind her perked Artemis's attention, as she spun around, planting the palm of her hand into Octane's face.

"Just the playboy I was looking for," she commented, her expression dark.

"Pol deserved it?" Octane protested, muffled. Without pulling away, he flipped a thumb behind him, indicating Sandstorm. "By the way, this is my new friend Sandstorm."

"We've met," the shorter triplechanger remarked.

"Not officially," Artemis corrected, before returning her attention to Octane. "All right, old friend, what do you know about the Predacons?"

"Nasty badasses who don't play nicely with others?"

"Octane, they're coming this way!" Yanking her hand back, which caused Octane to stumble forward, she continued urgently. "Brin's found out that Galvatron's got the Predacons on his side somehow, and Superion's right now tailing them."

"That must have been Galvatron's super-secret plan!"

"What super-secret plan?" Artemis demanded. "Octane, I'm not in the mood for your shenanigans!"

"Galvatron hasn't told us anything in the last stel, Art! Honest!" Taking her hands into his, he fell to his knees; melodramatic, but it brought his point across. "Anything he plans, he does so through Cyclonus and Scourge and no one else! Honest, this is the first time I heard anything about the Predacons!"

"So you don't know anything about the possibility of a second new gestalt then?"

"Artemis, I swear, no one knows anything of what Galvatron is planning until the last possible cycle!"

"Slot," she growled.

"I would tell you anything, Arty, you know I would," Octane continued. "I honestly don't know what Galvatron is planning-"

"It doesn't matter," she sighed. "What matters now is we've got some serious battles in the near future." Crossing her arms over her chest, she bowed her head. "Jazz, have Magnus and Kup contacted you yet?"

"Not yet, why?"

_ "Superion to Autobot City!" _

The static between Metroplex's relay wasn't enough to cut out Superion's urgency in his voice. Cupping a hand to her audio receptor, Artemis then replied, "Superion, what's going on?"

_ "I'm fifty kilometers south of Olympia, flying south-south-west! It's confirmed: Predaking's heading straight for Autobot City!" _

"ETA?" she demanded.

_ "Two hours, minimum! I've also detected a concentration of Decepticons behind us by about three-quarters of an hour! I can't confirm-" _

"Get back here now!" she stressed urgently. "Ultra Magnus, get your skidplates in gear! Superion's got Predaking two hours north of us, and they're being tailed by more party crashers!"

"Damn!" Jazz swore, shifting gears to prepare for active defense mode.

_ "I'll take it from here. Magnus out." _

"Art, what's going on?" Bumblebee questioned.

"Rodimus's MIA," she answered truthfully. "I don't know how, but he is."

As expected, both Jazz and Bumblebee stared at her slack-jaw, obviously contemplating whether or not to believe her.

"Looks like Magnus is in charge until we find out what happened," she continued, her voice sullen. "In the meantime, we should deal with Galvatron once and for all."

"Ask Soundwave!" Octane snapped his fingers. "I mean, he would know about any other gestalts or whatever you want. Trick is to get him to talk, you know?"

"Jazz, you're with me," Artemis nodded. "Let's see if we can get some answers there."

Jazz made a slight noise as to protest, then shook his head. "Damn, woman, you've gotta stop making sense so I can contradict you!"

"Octane, stay out of trouble!" Artemis ordered, turning on her heel and bolting towards the main courtyard, Jazz hot on her heels.

This was it. This would be the final battle.

In one way, she hoped so, but deep down, she knew it wouldn't be.

_ We are a race striving on conflict... _

_ * _

The lone motorcyclist brought her bike to a complete stop as she watched the stream of human workers leave Autobot Ciy in their own vehicles, mostly black Suburbans or extended cabs.

_ It was better this way,  _ Brin reminded herself. Humans were weak physically, limited in abilities and very short-lived. Their survival basically relied on their intelligence to build stuff and blow stuff up and the fact they could reproduce in nine-month intervals.

Resuming her trek, she made it to the front gate, where she met up with Blurr, along with a few other Autobots she could not place names with.

"Sorry-so-sorry-we're-locking-down-big-big-big-problems-coming-Should leave-buh-bye!" Blurr warned her, waving his hands in front of him.

Pulling off her helmet, she gave him a hard, intimidating glare from one blue eye, one bronze eye. "I'm Brin married to the Clan of the Shadow," she exclaimed forcefully. "I'm the scout from Four Winds; I have every right to be here when Galvatron makes his big push."

"I think what Blurr's trying to say is that it would be safer for you to stay in Portland tonight," the other Autobot, a boxy blue fellow with what seemed to be a minivan transformation, translated.

With a slight puff of irritation, Brin dismounted her motorcycle and regarded both Autobots with a somewhat annoyed expression.

"Garotte, transform," she ordered, as her vehicle unfolded into a more upright position, kneeling behind her, cockpit open, awaiting its pilot. "I don't think we need to worry about me being safe."

"Let her through, lads," Kup barked as he approached the gate, Grimlock flanking closely behind. To the Sirian woman, Kup addressed her with respect.

"So you're Artemis's friend Garotte, eh? Should have figured." With a smirk, he shook his head. "I must say, infiltrating Galvatron's base is impressive work."

"Darxtar was right about you, Kup," Brin chuckled, stepping into her transtector. "You like to flatter. And seeing that my ride took off without me, I guess I'm going to help you guys out a little longer."

"You got firepower?" Grimlock questioned bluntly.

Garotte's head looked up with a slight whirl of gears, the blue optics expressing Brin's contemplation.

"Don't need it," she exclaimed cheerfully as she pressed past the Dinobot, breaking into a run towards Artemis and Jazz with a shout and a wave.

"Hn." Grimlock snorted somewhat, unimpressed. "Me want all entrances covered. Gunners, phalanx gates. Me want no one to come in now. Not even humans." Turning away from Kup, he stormed towards where his Dinobots were waiting for him. "They do better to not come here anyway."

*

The royal blue and maroon medic raced across the courtyard, deftly dodging other Autobots prepping up for the inevitable attack. Finally, with a huff of breath, he skidded to a stop, using Jazz's arm as a brake, falling into step with the two Autobots heading down to the brig.

"Magnus says ye's be needin' some assistance with Soundwave," Zodiac exclaimed. "Iffin I'se able to get him outta his comatose, that is."

"We've got maybe one-hundred-fifty cycles max to figure out what's going on," Artemis explained, her voice clipped. "If we can't get anything out of Soundwave..."

"We defend the city, no matter what," Jazz pointed out. "We'll be cool, Art. Don't sweat it."

"Jazz, there's too many nagging factors to be 'cool' about it," she shook her head. "It may be desperation...but something keeps telling me there's something else we're not figuring out."

"An' ye think Soundwave may have that answer?" Zodiac questioned.

"It's our only lead," Artemis whispered. "One thing I'm worried about is if Galvatron does try to rescue Soundwave, though. Rumble and Frenzy don't know if he would or not, but I can't give them the benefit of the doubt."

it was then when the small Transector, standing to Artemis's midsection, joined the three.

"Need some persuasive assistance?" Brin questioned, looping an arm with Jazz and beaming up at him. "Hi there."

"Jazz, this is Garotte," Artemis introduced. "She's one of my coworkers from Four Winds."

"Specializing in interrogation, espionage, and other forms of dirty pool," she cooed, tapping gently at Jazz's mirrored visor. "Oooo...I bet there's some gorgeous blue optics under that..."

"And here I was complaining on Art's choice of friends," Jazz commented with a grin.

Zodiac hid his optics with his hand and muttered something intangible under his breath. Jazz, now reclaiming his cool composure, cleared his throat and activated his com. "Skids, Pipes, Cliffjumper, we need you at the exit in case something turns out not so nice," he hailed as Artemis regarded Zodiac.

"You and I will go in the cell," she revealed. "Jazz and his boys will watch our back, make sure Soundwave's kids don't get too frisky. We're going to do this as fast as possible. If we can't get Soundwave conscious, we're going to have to hack into his CPU."

"I don't like it, me gal, but I'll go along with it," Zodiac nodded apprehensively.

"I hope you brought a computer not connected to the network," she then commented as Jazz pushed open the brig door, "especially what happened this afternoon."

"After the big friggin' Unicron possession? I'd be crazy otherwise."

"Oh, dear," Garotte paused momentarily before jogging alongside Artemis. "Is this one of those things I don't want to know?"

"Probably. Okay, folks, let's rock and roll."

Jazz brought his pistol to his side, relaxing his hold on the handle, but keeping it not only visible to the imprisoned Decepticons but also ready to aim and fire if the situation got too hairy. "You packing, Art?" Jazz demanded, eyeing her rifle at her hip.

"I’m not supposed to; against the terms of my position, after all," she shook her head, taking up the lead. "That’s your job. Soundwave’s crew suspect me as an informant but may still see me as their only ally here. If they're threatened by me, then we're not going to get anywhere. On the other hand..."

Smashing the heel of her hand into the charged cell door to her right, the sharp sizzle and echoing clang stirred Motormaster from his slumber.

"Wake up, slothead," she snarled. "What's going on with Galvatron?"

"I ain't telling you nothing!" the Stunticon leader snapped.

"What about Predaking?"

"Slot off, glitch!"

"I'm not in the mood for games." Unhitching her rifle, she stepped back, taking aim. "Wanna see how conventional rounds do punching through energy fields? Oh, sure you do!"

Without waiting for him to protest, she squeezed off a round, the bullet slicing through the energy field between the bars, before impacting the wall just above Motormaster's head with a potent blast. Cygnus Glazer bullets worked wonders; geared specifically for no exit wounds; upon impact, they would expand, generally making a rather messy but nominally superficial wound on Cybertronians. Coupled, however, with charged energy, the bullet had taken on a slightly more deadly angle, as it glowed brightly; upon impact, the energy dispersed, charging the entire wall for a brief moment before dissipating. The blast area, however, remained sparking.

"Now, I wonder how this would react with Cybes," she commented flippantly, dropping her aim down slightly.

"All I know is that Galvatron's been keeping Predaking and Abominus camped in the Yukon!" the Stunticon leader stammered. "He said it was a precaution!"

"Who's Abominus?" she demanded sternly.

"I-I don't know!"

"The other gestalt, right?" Brin then demanded before taking hold of Artemis's free arm, hugging it tightly as she leaned against the taller femme. "Oh, Art, let me go in there and get more information for you! You've got other things to work with, let me deal with the big guy. He looks like he likes to play rough!"

"Not now, Garotte," Artemis shook her head, replacing the safety and tossing the rifle to Jazz before pivoting to her left, heading towards one of the furthest cells, Zodiac flanking her closely. With a sigh of disappointment, Garotte blew a kiss to Motormaster before attaching herself to Jazz's arm as they followed Artemis to the cell holding the spymaster and his children.

"I brought some help, boys," the former mercenary announced. Rumble and Frenzy glanced up collectively, their gazes locked now on the medic, who seemed to be nervous. "The thing is, we need information."

"Blackmail doesn't suit you, Arty," Frenzy grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. Rumble's hand wrapped around Overkill's tail as the little reptilian cassette made hissing noises, clawing at the air with his short arms towards Zodiac.

"I'm not attempting to blackmail you at all, Frenzy," she reassured, nodding to Jazz. The white and black Autobot punched a key pattern into the lock mechanism, allowing the force field to drop around three bars, and then retracting the bars all together into the ceiling. Artemis, then Zodiac, entered the cell, her stride confident, his betraying his nervousness. The femme then sat, cross-legged, in front of Rumble and Frenzy, leaving Zodiac to the comatose Soundwave; he backed off when Ravage snapped at the medic in a protective manner.

"Ravage, it's okay, he's helping the boss," Rumble remarked. "Come over here and let him do his work."

"I'm sorry it came to this, boys," Artemis stated with a sigh.

"Abominus is the combined robot of the Terrorcons," Frenzy interjected as Ravage laid his head on the red and black cassette's lap. "Thunderwing sold their services to Megatron in the late nineties, and they remained in stasis in the Yukon ever since."

"And you know the Predacons," Rumble added. "Galvatron managed to convince the Clan of the Demon to contact them. He offered the Demons a chance to strike at the Clan of the Shadows."

"What?" Garotte stepped forward. "Galvatron managed to convince the Demons-"

"It wasn't hard to do, really," Frenzy snapped. "The Demons have it in for you Shadow clan chumps, and everyone and their dead mechanic know Shadow contracts out to the Autobots. Since the Preds merc out to the Demons...well, you do the math."

"Slot," Artemis grumbled, bowing her head.

"Oh, hell," Zodiac swore to himself, before addressing Jazz. "Diagnostics are useless. I can't work in these conditions, me son. I'se gonna need some room to work, a full lab...and perhaps someone who's skilled in neurosurgery. This isn't a virus; someone has pretty much rewritten the poor bastard's CPU."

"What can you do about him?" Rumble demanded.

"Short of dumping his entire core and starting fresh? Nothing." Shaking his head, Zodiac pinched the bridge of his nose. "A neurosurgeon could perhaps be able to take all the data from a binary level and sort it out manually, but it would take decacycles."

"We don't have that kind of time," Artemis stressed.

" **_No,"_ ** the resonating rush of syllables assaulted those in and beyond the cell, causing a wave of slight distortion and disorientation.  **_"You have in fact run out of time."_ **

"Oh, slag, not this again!" Jazz whined as Garotte darted behind him.

"You know, I'm really beginning to dislike him," Artemis quipped darkly under her breath.

The three flier cassettes squawked and shrieked in panic, diving towards Rumble and Frenzy, landing in a jumble to take cover behind their brothers. Ravage scampered over Artemis's lap and behind her leg as Overkill whimpered, transforming back into cassette mode, still shaking as he lay on the floor.

Zodiac especially fell back, pushing himself towards the wall, looking at the other Autobots for an explanation.

**_"Your attempts to save your enemy are futile,"_ ** Unicron boomed.  **_"The information you want does not lie in Galvatron. You still think too small, Autobots, too black and white. Remember this: good and evil are mortal concepts. Once you learn and overcome that, then you will be able to face the threat that damns the universe. Until then..."_ ** Unicron's chuckle died off as Soundwave's optics flickered between green and red.

"The weirdocity meter just soared into the triple digits, man," Jazz commented with a whistle.

"Jazz, let's get Soundwave up to Perceptor's lab," Artemis suggested. "Between Zodiac, Perceptor and the Junkions..."

"The virus," Zodiac nodded. "I think I know where ye're going at, me gal."

"Take Ravage with you," Frenzy ordered. "We're not going to leave the boss totally prone to you guys."

"We don't have time to argue the point. Ravage stays with Soundwave, no deviating from his shell, no sulking off."

"Understand that, bro?" Rumble questioned his feline brother, who gave a slight snort of affirmation. "And you promise Galvie's not going to rip us to shreds, right?"

"Wouldn't dream of letting him do any such thing," Artemis nodded, standing, as Jazz called forth Cliffjumper and Skids to help haul Soundwave to Perceptor's lab. "You guys have been a big help."

"We're doing this for the boss," Frenzy reminded sharply. "We're doing this 'cuz this ain't how Megatron wanted us to end up."

"It isn't how anyone wanted to end up," she agreed absently as they left the remaining spy cassettes to mull in the cell.


End file.
